Hermione Granger and the Philosopher's Stone
by rosemarylake
Summary: Have you ever wondered about Hermione's early life? What happened before the trio met at Hogwarts? And how did Hermione get her letter? This fanfic will help you see one of the greatest stories of our generation through the eyes of a beloved character.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: First Day, First Sign**

By Rosemary Lake

All Characters BELONG to Mrs J.K Rowling

Mr and Mrs Granger, of number eighteen, Shipston Road, were very proud of their daughter. Young as she was – she would start primary school today and would be six in a few weeks – she could already read and write, as well as do simple maths. Hermione was indeed an exceptionally bright child. Hermione – a fitting name for their girl.

Yet they were nervous on the first day of September. The first school day means a lot for a child. Few things have such a lasting impression as primary school. It shapes the character nearly as much as the parental education. Really leaving the safe haven of home for the first time, meeting other children and the teachers, starts patterns that will continue to show up in life. A child met with exclusion and ridicule will later become introverted, distrusting of other people. A child that finds friends will do so more easily when they are older. A good teacher can build confidence, promote interests, teach morals. A bad teacher can destroy all of that. Not being taken seriously by the teacher leaves scars that are not easily mended.

David and Jane knew that those were generalizations and not universally applicable. But they were based on conclusive statistical evidence and simple common sense, the first being more important to Jane and the latter to David. They were both believers in action and reaction, that every effect had a cause that was researchable and logically explainable, with the possible exception of human emotions. They had spent much time discussing the composition of Hermione's gene pool.

The girl mostly resembled Jane. She had the same facial features as her mother: a round face, a rather small, unremarkable nose and equally unremarkable ears. They were usually invisible though, hidden by a large amount of brown, bushy hair that wouldn't be controlled by any amount of brushing. Its colour was the same as Jane's long, wavy strands, but they had no idea where the bushiness came from. Her eyes were David's, dark brown and thoughtful. They didn't expect her to grow tall; that wasn't a trait that ran in either of their families. Hopefully her build would resemble her mother's too, not too small, but slender and athletic.

Today Hermione was exceptionally restless. As they entered the school she ran eagerly ahead, only to realize how far away she suddenly was from her parents and run back. That was good; at least she wasn't hiding behind them as so many other children did. They led her into the classroom. All the chairs were arranged in a large half-circle, some already taken by children, their parents standing behind like guards. At the centre of the half-circle stood another chair in which the teacher sat. Hermione took an empty chair and her parents positioned themselves behind it, just like the other parents. They exchanged polite nods and settled to wait.

It didn't take long for the classroom to fill up. Soon all seats were taken by small, nervous figures, each backed by one or two parents. The teacher cleared his throat. He was young, in his mid-twenties probably, his eyes shining with life and his smile friendly. Yet there was a hint of nervousness tugging on the edges of his mouth. Probably his first class, the Grangers decided. That was both good and bad; young teachers tended to bring good ideas and a lot of motivation, but they weren't experienced in handling difficult situations.

"Good morning, children, good morning to you all," he greeted them, his nervousness more noticeable in his voice than in his behaviour. He settled into the chair behind him. "I'm Jonathan Harley. I'll be teaching you for the next few years. Here you will learn new and interesting things, find new friends and hopefully have a lot of fun." He looked around and got shy smiles in return. The children seemed to accept him. That was a good sign.

"Now, let's introduce ourselves, shall we? Please, you go first." He turned to a fair-haired girl at the far end of the half-circle. "Tell us your name and a bit about you."

"I'm Sheila Ryan. I'm five years old. I'll be six in March. We only came here a few months ago. I like riding," the girl said. She showed no sign of shyness.

"Do you already know anyone here, Sheila?"

Sheila nodded and pointed at the girl next to her, who had rather dark skin and curly, black hair. She looked very cute.

"That's Becky. She lives just across the street from me."

So it went around the circle, some children offering lots of information voluntarily while others had to have it dragged out of them. Quite a lot of them already knew each other. Mr Harley handled it well, asking questions only when they were necessary, but insisting on getting answers when he had to ask, without intimidating the children. Then it was Hermione's turn. Jane had a hand resting on her shoulder.

"I... I'm Hermione Granger. I'll be six in eighteen days. I like reading."

"You can already read?" asked Mr Harley.

"Yes. I can read and write and add and subtract and..."

The teacher's smile faltered for a moment as Hermione continued to list all the things she could do. He clearly wished he hadn't asked the question. Jane pressed her hand a little harder on Hermione's shoulder. She got the message. My smart girl, Jane thought.

"...and I can tell some trees by their leaves," Hermione finished early. David knew she could have gone on for quite a while. He looked around to gauge the reaction of the others. Most children looked at Hermione with curiosity, some looked nowhere specifically. To his relief, he could not find any envious or hostile looks.

"So, do you know anybody else here?" Mr Harley now asked.

Hermione's smile fell. She shook her head.

"Oh, well, that's not bad. You'll get to know them soon enough."

The last few children introduced themselves. Then Mr Harley stood up.

"Very well. Now I suggest you all get to know each other better. I will talk to your parents for a moment."

He motioned the adults to follow him. They gathered in one corner of the classroom. For some time it was very loud as the children dragged their chairs around the room to form small, tight clusters. Jane watched as Hermione joined a mixed group of boys and girls in the far corner. Then she turned her attention to the teacher, who was explaining the procedures of the school, how he planned to teach the children and what he planned to teach. David's suspicion that this was his first class was confirmed. Laughter could be heard from the children. Some parents had more questions and Mr Harley answered them as well as he could.

A loud crash followed by high shrieks caused them all to turn around. In the far corner a large and skinny boy sat on the remains of his broken chair, looking up in shock at Hermione, who was standing over him, equal shock on her face. The other children had jumped backwards, some toppling over on their chairs too.

Then the boy began to cry.

Mr Harley jumped into action. In surprisingly few steps he had crossed the room, followed closely by the Grangers and another couple, who probably were the parents of the boy. David hadn't really noticed them before, as they had been standing a few chairs to the right of Hermione and thus out of his sight.

"What's going on here?" the teacher bellowed. The children fell quiet immediately, except for the boy, who continued weeping. His mother rushed forward and took him into her arms. Mr Harley turned to one of the girls who had toppled over and had now started crying too. He lifted her up from the floor and spoke a few soothing words before handing her over to her father. Then he turned back to the main scene.

"Can you tell me what happened here, Hermione?"

But Hermione just continued to gape at the boy in front of her.

"Andrew, what about you?"

The boy lifted his head from his mother's shoulder. Hesitantly he lifted one arm and pointed at Hermione.

"She... she..." he sobbed.

David pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. He didn't like people pointing at his daughter this way. Various parents and children looked at Hermione. Mr Harley kept his eyes on Andrew, but the accusing finger jerked Hermione out of her stupor.

"I didn't do anything!" she shouted. "He was mean to me!"

"I wasn't!" Andrew shouted back. "I didn't say anything!" His mother glared at Hermione and David stepped up behind his daughter, returning the glare.

"Stop!" Mr Harley interrupted. Then he turned to a girl who had said she knew Andrew.

"Sandra, what did you talk about here?"

The girl gaped, surprised to be addressed when she obviously had nothing to do with anything.

"Nothing. Just ... talking."

"He called me a woolly know-it-all!" Hermione shouted.

"I didn't!"

Mr Harley sighed heavily.

"Come on, let's get away from this chair before someone draws a splinter. How did it break, anyway?" he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He picked up one of the four legs and examined it. All four had snapped near the seat. The wood looked fresh and strong; there was no sign of rot or other damage that might have caused the accident.

David put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her away. She shot a nasty look at Andrew, who was picked up and carried away by his mother. David turned her so that she couldn't see the boy and knelt down opposite her. Jane knelt next to him.

"Now, Hermione," David said gently, "what happened?"

Hermione looked at him, then burst into tears herself, her anger spent.

"Come now, be calm. It's over. Nothing bad has happened."

"He called me names," she sobbed, "and he laughed at me, and I stood up and wanted to shout and his chair broke. I don't know why. But he was mean to me! Serves him right!"

"Now don't say that. That's a bad thing to say," David said, stroking her hair. "Shh, everything's alright now. Hush, my girl."

"Dr Granger?" Mr Harley said quietly. He knelt down next to them. "Are you alright?" he asked Hermione. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, but nodded. He smiled.

"Good. Now, I need to speak to your father for a moment."

She nodded again and sought the comfort of her mother's arms instead.

David and Mr Harley went to a window, where Andrew's father was already waiting. He appeared to be a generally pleasant man, but right now he was looking very disgruntled.

Mr Harley looked at the two, searching for something to say.

"Did your daughter have much contact with other kids before school?" he finally asked David.

"No. Not much at all. She mostly kept to herself."

"What about your son, Mr Bloomer?"

"Quite a bit. He knew most of the children that sat with him before."

Mr Harley steeled himself for a difficult question.

"Has he... shown a tendency to... be rude before?"

"What makes you think he..." Mr Bloomer started, but Mr Harley cut him off.

"Please, Mr Bloomer, calm down. We must face the facts. That insult sounds rather likely to me, and I could tell that Sandra wasn't truthful. Five-year-olds don't make good liars."

Mr Bloomer's face was very red, but his reason finally won over protective instinct.

"I just can't imagine Andy doing such a thing. He's a nice boy."

"I don't doubt that. But there's a very common group phenomenon, especially at this age: inclusion through exclusion, to tighten a group by excluding people from it. I think that's what happened there."

"So what are you going to do about it?" asked David.

"I'll have to watch them in the future." Mr Harley thought for a moment. "I think for now I'll have them apologize to each other. There's not much else I can do."

"But..."

"Mr Granger, Andrew thinks Hermione did something, and it's quite hard to explain that she just couldn't break that chair. So it's best if both apologize. After all, she wanted to yell at him, if I understood you correctly." He gave David a questioning look.

David considered this and decided that the teacher was right. He nodded.

"Very well. Should I tell Hermione or do you want to talk to her yourself?"

"I'll talk to them both. Mr Bloomer, I'll be with you in a minute."

Mr Bloomer returned to his wife and son while the teacher and David walked over to where Jane and Hermione had been watching the discussion. Hermione had calmed down completely by now and was standing next to her mother, holding her hand. Mr Harley knelt down in front of Hermione again so he could speak with her eye to eye.

"Hermione," he said, "I'm going to ask Andrew to apologize for calling you names. But," he added as Hermione nodded, "I want you to apologize too. You wanted to shout at him, and that's not nice. So just say you're sorry, alright? You don't even need to say for what."

She nodded again. Mr Harley smiled and walked over to the Bloomers where he talked to Andrew in the same way. David couldn't help grinning. The boy would get the apology he thought he deserved and Hermione wouldn't resent giving it. No bad feelings would hopefully be left.

Mr Harley stood up and stepped aside, leaving an open space between Andrew and Hermione. Like a duelling area, David thought. The two children cast uncertain looks at each other and David gave Hermione a light shove. She stumbled forwards and Andrew did the same. They met halfway. Andrew was the first to speak.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said quietly, so that David could hardly catch the words. "I didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry too," she answered. Andrew smiled a little and stretched out his hand. Hermione took it. After a moment they broke apart and returned to their respective parents without looking back. David took his daughter into his arms and stroked her hair.

"Very well," called Mr Harley. "If no one has any more questions then you can go home. Tomorrow school starts for real."

The Grangers took their leave and left the school. The prospects didn't look too bad for their girl.

Little did they know.


	2. Chapter 2

The years went by and Hermione grew older. Her parents soon forgot the details of the incident on her first school day, but she didn't, not when she was reminded of it daily. Andrew might have been the first to call her names, but he wasn't the last. Hardly a day passed on which she wasn't mocked for her hair or anything else about her. Things got worse when her adult teeth came – her front teeth were unusually large and stuck out, which earned her the uncomplimentary nickname Beaver. The other children hid her books, tried to draw her chair from under her, tripped her up or tugged at her hair. Nobody wanted to sit near her or be in any sort of group with her. She was always the last to be chosen for the teams and excluded from everything the others did.

She covered it up by studying harder. During breaks, when the others were playing, she was reading the text books. Soon she was done with them, had learned everything there was to learn in first grade, so she went to the school library and got more advanced books. She could answer every question asked in class and often did so. She passed all tests perfectly and got all extra credit there was to get. It gave her something to do and made her parents proud. But it didn't cure her loneliness.

In fact, she felt she might have gone insane with all the teasing, had she not gotten back at her tormentors in mysterious ways once in a while. Amelia used to tug especially hard at Hermione's hair when they were out of the teacher's sight until one day a strand of hair came loose and wrapped itself tightly around her arm; she had screamed in terror, but when the teacher finally arrived the hairs were just hairs again, falling silently to the ground. Fabian, the boy who loved to pursue her after school, kept tripping when he ran after her. Hermione couldn't explain these events, but they always worked in her favour, something her classmates noticed too, after a while. They called her freak or witch and ran whenever she got really angry. Even their parents shot her dirty looks whenever she met them.

Mr Harley was one of the few people who were nice to Hermione, but even he soon gave up trying to get Hermione accepted in class. Instead he encouraged her studies and tried to keep her out of the worst teasing. He couldn't explain the strange accidents any more than Hermione could though. His inquiries to her parents weren't successful either; they insisted that she had nothing to do with it.

All in all, it was a great relief for Hermione when her years in primary school came to an end. She planned to go to a private boarding school for exceptionally gifted students. At the start of the summer she had taken the necessary exams to be accepted and had passed. She would miss her parents of course, the two people she could always rely on. On the other hand, the students at the new school wouldn't be so jealous of her; she would be able to make friends there.

Friends. She had watched the children in her class group together, always having fun or consoling each other when something bad happened. She had sat alone, showing nothing on the outside but wishing for the same, wishing for people who saw her as more than just another child. Instead they saw her as less.

She arrived at the boarding school. Signs directed her to her new classroom. She wandered the dark and empty corridors of the large building until she reached a closed door. Light shimmered through the gaps and laughter could be heard. She approached the door. It was her new classroom. She reached for the handle. The laughter got louder. She pulled the door open. Light flooded over her. The students turned around to see the new arrival. Their laughter stopped. The students were all wearing the same few faces. Half the boys wore Fabian's face, the other half wore Martin's, Fabian's best friend. The girls looked like Erica, who had sometimes poured water into her schoolbag, or Amelia. A single cry rose from the class.

"THE FREAK!"

Hermione woke with a start.

For a minute she lay there, fighting back tears. It wasn't the first time she had had this nightmare. The details varied, but she always came to her new school only to find it filled with the stupidest children from her old class. Her mother had told her not to worry. The new school would be the right thing for her; the nightmares would pass. She only hoped it was true.

The early morning sun shone into her room. Hermione stood up and pulled the curtains aside. It was beautiful weather outside, a few fluffy clouds on an otherwise bright blue sky. A bird flew past the window, slowly gaining height and flying north. An owl? That was very strange, owls were supposed to be night birds.

Hermione turned back to her room. The clock on the bedside table showed six thirty. Too late to go back to bed. She dressed and went downstairs to make tea. Maybe she could go on a bike tour with her father; it was his free day.

The noise of a roll of paper colliding with wood announced the arrival of the newspaper. Hermione went to the door and opened it. There the newspaper lay, next to a highly unusual letter. It was made of parchment, had no stamp and was addressed in green ink in a flowing script – to her.

Ms H Granger The Bedroom Facing The Garden 18 Shipston Road Swalcliffe Oxfordshire

She picked the letter up and turned it around. There was no source address, only a purple seal on the letter. It featured a coat of arms, made of a capital H surrounded by a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake.

She took the newspaper and turned back inside, still looking at the letter. She was so taken by the letter that she nearly ran into her mother, who just came down the stairs.

"Oh, morning Mum," she said absent-mindedly.

"Good morning Hermione. Why are you up so early?"

"Nightmare woke me." She grimaced and added hurriedly, "Don't worry, it wasn't too bad. What about you?"

"Early appointment." Jane yawned. "Want some tea?"

"I was about to make some."

They went into the kitchen together where Hermione placed the newspaper and her letter on the table. Her mother filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Then she joined her daughter.

"What's that letter?" she asked.

"I don't know. Didn't come with the normal mail though, it was lying next to the newspaper."

"Looks like some weird advertisement."

Hermione took the letter and broke the seal. There were four sheets of parchment inside. She took the topmost one and read aloud.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) Dear Ms Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, as well as some other information that you will find interesting.

Term begins on 1 September. A representative of the school will meet you on 28 July to introduce you to our world and help you obtain your equipment. Please make sure that you and your parents or guardians are available on this day as this might well be the most important appointment in your life.

Your sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

Voices echoed in Hermione's head. Stay away from me, witch. Hey witch, where's your cat? She dropped the letter in disgust.

"A joke," she said quietly. "Just a stupid joke."

At that moment David appeared in the kitchen.

"Morning, sweethearts," he said brightly. Then he caught the look on Hermione's face. "What happened?"

Hermione shoved the parchment over to him. As he read it his face darkened.

"Very funny," he finally said angrily. "Who sent that?"

She shrugged. "It was dropped on the doorstep. There was no return address." She thought for a moment. "It was addressed to my very bedroom, though." She showed them the envelope. Her father studied it closely.

"Odd seal," he mumbled.

Jane suddenly stood up.

"Sorry, I've got to go," she said. She leaned down and kissed Hermione. "Just ignore it, darling. Don't let them get to you." She kissed her husband too and left.

Hermione and David were left sitting at the table. Hermione idly turned the sheet of parchment over and over in her hands, not really looking at it.

"I hoped I was rid of them for good," she suddenly burst out. "I hoped they would finally leave me alone." She took snatched up the envelope and tore it apart, then crumpled the pieces up and threw them across the room.

"Hermione!" her father exclaimed.

She didn't listen to him. She took up the sheet of parchment. "Why don't they just mind their own business? What have I ever –" She had been about to tear the parchment in half but stopped dead. New words had appeared on it.

Please don't do that!

Hermione dropped the parchment in surprise. As it landed on the table more text appeared, as if written by an invisible hand.

Why don't you read the other sheets first?

She looked at her father. He was staring at the parchment too, his mouth hanging open.

"Er..." he said. "Let's follow this advice, then."

Hermione took up the next sheet of parchment.

HOWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Information Sheet for Muggle-Borns Dear Future Student of Hogwarts,

You are without doubt puzzled by the letter you just received. You probably think it's a joke, some elaborate prank by those who are afraid of the strange things that often happened around you. We can hardly blame you.

But have you never wondered about these things? You must have noticed that often, when you were scared or angry, things happened that you couldn't explain. Maybe you got out of a dangerous situation or you got back at someone who made you angry. And often, these things couldn't be explained. Maybe something changed colour or came alive for a few moments. No force known to you could have logically caused these things.

The explanation is as simple as it is unbelievable: you have magical abilities. You are a witch or wizard.

Don't dismiss this idea immediately. Of course it seems unbelievable, even ridiculous. We all know that magic is something from fairy tales. If there are wizards, why don't we know of them? They can't be hiding, after all.

Actually, we can and we do. Wizards have hidden themselves from non-magic people (usually called Muggles) for centuries. Spells that hide places from Muggle eyes or erase the memories of sightings of wizards or magical creatures have been a great aid in this. We hide because history has shown that it is rarely possible for wizards and Muggles to live side by side peacefully. Think of the witch-burnings of the medieval times.

Magic is an ability you're born with. If you're not magic at birth you'll never be. This is just one of the reasons why living together is so hard for wizards and Muggles; the Muggles tend to get jealous and the wizards arrogant.

You are Muggle-born. You are one of the few people (about forty or fifty a year in all of Great Britain) who are born with magical abilities to non-magic parents. This magic has shown itself only under great emotional stress, in uncontrolled outbursts. You need to learn to control this ability and use it in a controlled fashion. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is your best chance of doing so.

Hogwarts is a boarding school located in Scotland. In seven years you will receive one of the best educations available for young witches and wizards, concluding with the N.E.W.T. exams. Hogwarts will prepare you for your life in the magical world.

You can of course choose to reject the magical part of you. If you should do so we will be forced to erase your memories of this letter. Please consider this very carefully. Rejecting your magic means rejecting your very nature. Not to mention the other benefits you get from living in our world. Wizards and witches live longer than Muggles and we can magically heal many diseases believed to be incurable. Maybe one in a thousand people can use magic. You are one of those select few. It would be a shame to waste this talent.

Should you still not believe our existence we can offer one last attempt of convincing you. If you do not believe us then, you'll have to wait for the representative, a witch or wizard who will show you the secret places where you can shop for school equipment.

Look at the top of the letter, at the greeting. It is addressed to a "Future Student of Hogwarts." You can command the letter to show your full name. The command is "Nomen." Say this one word to the letter and it will obey, if you really command it. The command "Incognito" will undo the effect.

Hermione stopped reading. She looked at her father. He looked back at her.

"Go ahead," he said. "What's the worst thing that can happen?"

Hermione swallowed. Her heart was beating very fast. She took a deep breath.

"Nomen," she said, but it didn't come out as she had intended. Instead of a sharp command it was more of a squeak. Consequently the letter stayed as it was.

Hermione had learned some tricks to calm down from her parents. She got herself a glass of water and drank it. She forced herself to breath evenly. Then she sat back down. From the corner of her eyes she saw that her father was wearing his "I'm so proud of you"-smile, but she forced herself to ignore that, too.

"Nomen!" That sounded right.

The ink shimmered as if wet again. Then the precise lines started to move and flow into each other. Her father gasped. After a few moments they settled into new words.

Dear Hermione Jane Granger,

It took a while for Hermione to realize her mouth was hanging open. She had done it. She really was a witch. She had just done magic.

Memories flooded her mind. A stool broke down. A child opened a schoolbook only to find it completely blank. A large stone that had been aimed at her suddenly took a sharp turn in mid-air and hit someone else.

"So," came her father's voice, interrupting her thoughts, "what about the other command?"

Hermione concentrated again. She could do it, she had just done it.

"Incognito!"

Once again the ink shimmered and moved around until it finally was back in the old pattern.

They sat in silence for a long time. It was David again who broke it.

"What are they talking about, these things happening?"

Hermione suddenly realized that nothing had ever happened at home. All these things had happened at school or on the way home and her parents had never been there. Except one time.

"Do you remember, dad, my first school day? The stool that collapsed? I think that's what they mean."

David looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"You mean that really was you?" he asked incredulously. Then he laughed. "Oh my! If only Mr Harley knew."

"Why?" Hermione asked. She didn't understand her father's sudden mirth.

He looked at her, his eyes twinkling.

"He said something, something like, 'Such a young girl simply can't break that chair.'"

"Oh," said Hermione, now grinning too. "Well, I can't really blame him."

David shook his head. "No, we can't." He pointed at the letter on the table. "I think we're not finished with that yet."

Hermione nodded and read on.

There is little left to say. As the first parchment should have informed you, a representative of the school will meet you soon to introduce you to the magical world. There is a lot to learn.

The next point is very important. By accepting your magical abilities, you are bound to the laws of the wizarding world. You must not tell anyone but your closest family, your parents and siblings, of your ability or the magical world. The school representative can help you should you need a good cover story to explain where you're spending your time.

The third parchment in the envelope is the list of your school supplies; the representative will show you where to get them. The fourth parchment is an information sheet for your parents or guardians. As such, it can only be read by adults and will look blank to you.

We look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts.

Yours sincerely Robert Roth Muggle-born Office, Department of Muggle Relations Ministry of Magic

David took the remaining two parchments and looked at them.

"This is obviously the supply list," he said, handing Hermione one of the sheets. "So this must be my letter. Does it... does it really look blank to you?" He sounded very excited.

Hermione looked up from the supply list at the parchment he was holding out. It was definitely blank and she said so.

"Fascinating..." her father muttered.

Hermione smiled and went back to the list.

HOWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Uniform First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black) One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. Set Books All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble Other Equipment 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Hermione re-read the book list in fascination. She had read many books, but none of them had nearly as interesting titles.

She sighed. It was the twenty-sixth, two more days until she could actually get the books. She looked up at her father. His eyes were fixed on the parchment, but didn't move. Suddenly he seemed to notice her look and turned to her.

"Could you –" he started, "could you show me that name thing again?"

Hermione looked into his eyes. The earlier excitement was gone. Instead there was – something else, something she couldn't really identify, but it worried her.

"Alright," she said and drew the letter to her.

"Nomen!"

It worked immediately this time. After a moment, her name was once again written on the parchment.

"And the other direction?"

Hermione stared at her father. He sounded slightly hoarse, almost afraid.

"Dad, what's up?"

"Please, Hermione."

She concentrated.

"Incognito!"

Moments later the parchment was back to its old state. David stared at it, his eyes opened wide. Like a bird facing a snake, thought Hermione. That wasn't a comforting thought. Suddenly she felt the need to get away. She gathered up the parchment, except the letter to her parents, and stood up.

"I'll be in my room," she said.

Her father looked up at her and nodded mutely.

Lying on her bed, Hermione found out, wasn't helping matters. She could hear her father walking through the house. Several times his footsteps stopped directly outside her door, only to draw away again. She started to really worry about her father.

When he once more wandered towards her room, she swiftly stood up and walked quietly over to the door. The sound of walking feet stopped. She pulled the door open to find her father jump back in surprise. No, she corrected after looking at him, in fright. His eyes looked haunted, pupils wide open, staring at her. His hair was ruffled and a little wet. His cheeks were flushed.

"Dad, what's up?" she asked.

David gave another start when he noticed her speaking to him.

"I – er –" he stammered, "could you show me the parchment again?"

Again?

"Dad, are you okay?" she asked again in a flustered voice. Then she noticed a very red spot on his left hand. "What's that on your hand?"

"It's –" he started, lifting the hand and looking at it, "oh, it's nothing. J-just an insect bite." He didn't sound at all convincing, made worse by the fact that he hid the hand behind his back. "Never mind that I asked. I should prepare lunch."

With that he turned and went downstairs. Hermione stood in the doorframe, looking after him. Unconsciously she touched her left hand where her father had the red spot. Realization struck her like lightning. He had pinched himself, as if to wake from a dream. Her father thought he was dreaming. That explained his haunted look, the wet and ruffled hair – he probably had splashed water on his face – and of course his asking for demonstration. He didn't believe it was real. Hermione leaned against the doorframe. Her father thought it was only a dream. She dragged herself to her bed and sat down heavily, head hanging down, her bushy hair falling like a curtain around her face. She buried her face in her hands.

Her dad didn't believe her magic was real.


	3. Chapter 3

The years went by and Hermione grew older. Her parents soon forgot the details of the incident on her first school day, but she didn't, not when she was reminded of it daily. Andrew might have been the first to call her names, but he wasn't the last. Hardly a day passed on which she wasn't mocked for her hair or anything else about her. Things got worse when her adult teeth came – her front teeth were unusually large and stuck out, which earned her the uncomplimentary nickname Beaver. The other children hid her books, tried to draw her chair from under her, tripped her up or tugged at her hair. Nobody wanted to sit near her or be in any sort of group with her. She was always the last to be chosen for the teams and excluded from everything the others did.

She covered it up by studying harder. During breaks, when the others were playing, she was reading the text books. Soon she was done with them, had learned everything there was to learn in first grade, so she went to the school library and got more advanced books. She could answer every question asked in class and often did so. She passed all tests perfectly and got all extra credit there was to get. It gave her something to do and made her parents proud. But it didn't cure her loneliness.

In fact, she felt she might have gone insane with all the teasing, had she not gotten back at her tormentors in mysterious ways once in a while. Amelia used to tug especially hard at Hermione's hair when they were out of the teacher's sight until one day a strand of hair came loose and wrapped itself tightly around her arm; she had screamed in terror, but when the teacher finally arrived the hairs were just hairs again, falling silently to the ground. Fabian, the boy who loved to pursue her after school, kept tripping when he ran after her. Hermione couldn't explain these events, but they always worked in her favour, something her classmates noticed too, after a while. They called her freak or witch and ran whenever she got really angry. Even their parents shot her dirty looks whenever she met them.

Mr Harley was one of the few people who were nice to Hermione, but even he soon gave up trying to get Hermione accepted in class. Instead he encouraged her studies and tried to keep her out of the worst teasing. He couldn't explain the strange accidents any more than Hermione could though. His inquiries to her parents weren't successful either; they insisted that she had nothing to do with it.

All in all, it was a great relief for Hermione when her years in primary school came to an end. She planned to go to a private boarding school for exceptionally gifted students. At the start of the summer she had taken the necessary exams to be accepted and had passed. She would miss her parents of course, the two people she could always rely on. On the other hand, the students at the new school wouldn't be so jealous of her; she would be able to make friends there.

Friends. She had watched the children in her class group together, always having fun or consoling each other when something bad happened. She had sat alone, showing nothing on the outside but wishing for the same, wishing for people who saw her as more than just another child. Instead they saw her as less.

She arrived at the boarding school. Signs directed her to her new classroom. She wandered the dark and empty corridors of the large building until she reached a closed door. Light shimmered through the gaps and laughter could be heard. She approached the door. It was her new classroom. She reached for the handle. The laughter got louder. She pulled the door open. Light flooded over her. The students turned around to see the new arrival. Their laughter stopped. The students were all wearing the same few faces. Half the boys wore Fabian's face, the other half wore Martin's, Fabian's best friend. The girls looked like Erica, who had sometimes poured water into her schoolbag, or Amelia. A single cry rose from the class.

"THE FREAK!"

Hermione woke with a start.

For a minute she lay there, fighting back tears. It wasn't the first time she had had this nightmare. The details varied, but she always came to her new school only to find it filled with the stupidest children from her old class. Her mother had told her not to worry. The new school would be the right thing for her; the nightmares would pass. She only hoped it was true.

The early morning sun shone into her room. Hermione stood up and pulled the curtains aside. It was beautiful weather outside, a few fluffy clouds on an otherwise bright blue sky. A bird flew past the window, slowly gaining height and flying north. An owl? That was very strange, owls were supposed to be night birds.

Hermione turned back to her room. The clock on the bedside table showed six thirty. Too late to go back to bed. She dressed and went downstairs to make tea. Maybe she could go on a bike tour with her father; it was his free day.

The noise of a roll of paper colliding with wood announced the arrival of the newspaper. Hermione went to the door and opened it. There the newspaper lay, next to a highly unusual letter. It was made of parchment, had no stamp and was addressed in green ink in a flowing script – to her.

Ms H Granger The Bedroom Facing The Garden 18 Shipston Road Swalcliffe Oxfordshire

She picked the letter up and turned it around. There was no source address, only a purple seal on the letter. It featured a coat of arms, made of a capital H surrounded by a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake.

She took the newspaper and turned back inside, still looking at the letter. She was so taken by the letter that she nearly ran into her mother, who just came down the stairs.

"Oh, morning Mum," she said absent-mindedly.

"Good morning Hermione. Why are you up so early?"

"Nightmare woke me." She grimaced and added hurriedly, "Don't worry, it wasn't too bad. What about you?"

"Early appointment." Jane yawned. "Want some tea?"

"I was about to make some."

They went into the kitchen together where Hermione placed the newspaper and her letter on the table. Her mother filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Then she joined her daughter.

"What's that letter?" she asked.

"I don't know. Didn't come with the normal mail though, it was lying next to the newspaper."

"Looks like some weird advertisement."

Hermione took the letter and broke the seal. There were four sheets of parchment inside. She took the topmost one and read aloud.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) Dear Ms Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, as well as some other information that you will find interesting.

Term begins on 1 September. A representative of the school will meet you on 28 July to introduce you to our world and help you obtain your equipment. Please make sure that you and your parents or guardians are available on this day as this might well be the most important appointment in your life.

Your sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

Voices echoed in Hermione's head. Stay away from me, witch. Hey witch, where's your cat? She dropped the letter in disgust.

"A joke," she said quietly. "Just a stupid joke."

At that moment David appeared in the kitchen.

"Morning, sweethearts," he said brightly. Then he caught the look on Hermione's face. "What happened?"

Hermione shoved the parchment over to him. As he read it his face darkened.

"Very funny," he finally said angrily. "Who sent that?"

She shrugged. "It was dropped on the doorstep. There was no return address." She thought for a moment. "It was addressed to my very bedroom, though." She showed them the envelope. Her father studied it closely.

"Odd seal," he mumbled.

Jane suddenly stood up.

"Sorry, I've got to go," she said. She leaned down and kissed Hermione. "Just ignore it, darling. Don't let them get to you." She kissed her husband too and left.

Hermione and David were left sitting at the table. Hermione idly turned the sheet of parchment over and over in her hands, not really looking at it.

"I hoped I was rid of them for good," she suddenly burst out. "I hoped they would finally leave me alone." She took snatched up the envelope and tore it apart, then crumpled the pieces up and threw them across the room.

"Hermione!" her father exclaimed.

She didn't listen to him. She took up the sheet of parchment. "Why don't they just mind their own business? What have I ever –" She had been about to tear the parchment in half but stopped dead. New words had appeared on it.

Please don't do that!

Hermione dropped the parchment in surprise. As it landed on the table more text appeared, as if written by an invisible hand.

Why don't you read the other sheets first?

She looked at her father. He was staring at the parchment too, his mouth hanging open.

"Er..." he said. "Let's follow this advice, then."

Hermione took up the next sheet of parchment.

HOWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Information Sheet for Muggle-Borns Dear Future Student of Hogwarts,

You are without doubt puzzled by the letter you just received. You probably think it's a joke, some elaborate prank by those who are afraid of the strange things that often happened around you. We can hardly blame you.

But have you never wondered about these things? You must have noticed that often, when you were scared or angry, things happened that you couldn't explain. Maybe you got out of a dangerous situation or you got back at someone who made you angry. And often, these things couldn't be explained. Maybe something changed colour or came alive for a few moments. No force known to you could have logically caused these things.

The explanation is as simple as it is unbelievable: you have magical abilities. You are a witch or wizard.

Don't dismiss this idea immediately. Of course it seems unbelievable, even ridiculous. We all know that magic is something from fairy tales. If there are wizards, why don't we know of them? They can't be hiding, after all.

Actually, we can and we do. Wizards have hidden themselves from non-magic people (usually called Muggles) for centuries. Spells that hide places from Muggle eyes or erase the memories of sightings of wizards or magical creatures have been a great aid in this. We hide because history has shown that it is rarely possible for wizards and Muggles to live side by side peacefully. Think of the witch-burnings of the medieval times.

Magic is an ability you're born with. If you're not magic at birth you'll never be. This is just one of the reasons why living together is so hard for wizards and Muggles; the Muggles tend to get jealous and the wizards arrogant.

You are Muggle-born. You are one of the few people (about forty or fifty a year in all of Great Britain) who are born with magical abilities to non-magic parents. This magic has shown itself only under great emotional stress, in uncontrolled outbursts. You need to learn to control this ability and use it in a controlled fashion. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is your best chance of doing so.

Hogwarts is a boarding school located in Scotland. In seven years you will receive one of the best educations available for young witches and wizards, concluding with the N.E.W.T. exams. Hogwarts will prepare you for your life in the magical world.

You can of course choose to reject the magical part of you. If you should do so we will be forced to erase your memories of this letter. Please consider this very carefully. Rejecting your magic means rejecting your very nature. Not to mention the other benefits you get from living in our world. Wizards and witches live longer than Muggles and we can magically heal many diseases believed to be incurable. Maybe one in a thousand people can use magic. You are one of those select few. It would be a shame to waste this talent.

Should you still not believe our existence we can offer one last attempt of convincing you. If you do not believe us then, you'll have to wait for the representative, a witch or wizard who will show you the secret places where you can shop for school equipment.

Look at the top of the letter, at the greeting. It is addressed to a "Future Student of Hogwarts." You can command the letter to show your full name. The command is "Nomen." Say this one word to the letter and it will obey, if you really command it. The command "Incognito" will undo the effect.

Hermione stopped reading. She looked at her father. He looked back at her.

"Go ahead," he said. "What's the worst thing that can happen?"

Hermione swallowed. Her heart was beating very fast. She took a deep breath.

"Nomen," she said, but it didn't come out as she had intended. Instead of a sharp command it was more of a squeak. Consequently the letter stayed as it was.

Hermione had learned some tricks to calm down from her parents. She got herself a glass of water and drank it. She forced herself to breath evenly. Then she sat back down. From the corner of her eyes she saw that her father was wearing his "I'm so proud of you"-smile, but she forced herself to ignore that, too.

"Nomen!" That sounded right.

The ink shimmered as if wet again. Then the precise lines started to move and flow into each other. Her father gasped. After a few moments they settled into new words.

Dear Hermione Jane Granger,

It took a while for Hermione to realize her mouth was hanging open. She had done it. She really was a witch. She had just done magic.

Memories flooded her mind. A stool broke down. A child opened a schoolbook only to find it completely blank. A large stone that had been aimed at her suddenly took a sharp turn in mid-air and hit someone else.

"So," came her father's voice, interrupting her thoughts, "what about the other command?"

Hermione concentrated again. She could do it, she had just done it.

"Incognito!"

Once again the ink shimmered and moved around until it finally was back in the old pattern.

They sat in silence for a long time. It was David again who broke it.

"What are they talking about, these things happening?"

Hermione suddenly realized that nothing had ever happened at home. All these things had happened at school or on the way home and her parents had never been there. Except one time.

"Do you remember, dad, my first school day? The stool that collapsed? I think that's what they mean."

David looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"You mean that really was you?" he asked incredulously. Then he laughed. "Oh my! If only Mr Harley knew."

"Why?" Hermione asked. She didn't understand her father's sudden mirth.

He looked at her, his eyes twinkling.

"He said something, something like, 'Such a young girl simply can't break that chair.'"

"Oh," said Hermione, now grinning too. "Well, I can't really blame him."

David shook his head. "No, we can't." He pointed at the letter on the table. "I think we're not finished with that yet."

Hermione nodded and read on.

There is little left to say. As the first parchment should have informed you, a representative of the school will meet you soon to introduce you to the magical world. There is a lot to learn.

The next point is very important. By accepting your magical abilities, you are bound to the laws of the wizarding world. You must not tell anyone but your closest family, your parents and siblings, of your ability or the magical world. The school representative can help you should you need a good cover story to explain where you're spending your time.

The third parchment in the envelope is the list of your school supplies; the representative will show you where to get them. The fourth parchment is an information sheet for your parents or guardians. As such, it can only be read by adults and will look blank to you.

We look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts.

Yours sincerely Robert Roth Muggle-born Office, Department of Muggle Relations Ministry of Magic

David took the remaining two parchments and looked at them.

"This is obviously the supply list," he said, handing Hermione one of the sheets. "So this must be my letter. Does it... does it really look blank to you?" He sounded very excited.

Hermione looked up from the supply list at the parchment he was holding out. It was definitely blank and she said so.

"Fascinating..." her father muttered.

Hermione smiled and went back to the list.

HOWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Uniform First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black) One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. Set Books All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble Other Equipment 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Hermione re-read the book list in fascination. She had read many books, but none of them had nearly as interesting titles.

She sighed. It was the twenty-sixth, two more days until she could actually get the books. She looked up at her father. His eyes were fixed on the parchment, but didn't move. Suddenly he seemed to notice her look and turned to her.

"Could you –" he started, "could you show me that name thing again?"

Hermione looked into his eyes. The earlier excitement was gone. Instead there was – something else, something she couldn't really identify, but it worried her.

"Alright," she said and drew the letter to her.

"Nomen!"

It worked immediately this time. After a moment, her name was once again written on the parchment.

"And the other direction?"

Hermione stared at her father. He sounded slightly hoarse, almost afraid.

"Dad, what's up?"

"Please, Hermione."

She concentrated.

"Incognito!"

Moments later the parchment was back to its old state. David stared at it, his eyes opened wide. Like a bird facing a snake, thought Hermione. That wasn't a comforting thought. Suddenly she felt the need to get away. She gathered up the parchment, except the letter to her parents, and stood up.

"I'll be in my room," she said.

Her father looked up at her and nodded mutely.

Lying on her bed, Hermione found out, wasn't helping matters. She could hear her father walking through the house. Several times his footsteps stopped directly outside her door, only to draw away again. She started to really worry about her father.

When he once more wandered towards her room, she swiftly stood up and walked quietly over to the door. The sound of walking feet stopped. She pulled the door open to find her father jump back in surprise. No, she corrected after looking at him, in fright. His eyes looked haunted, pupils wide open, staring at her. His hair was ruffled and a little wet. His cheeks were flushed.

"Dad, what's up?" she asked.

David gave another start when he noticed her speaking to him.

"I – er –" he stammered, "could you show me the parchment again?"

Again?

"Dad, are you okay?" she asked again in a flustered voice. Then she noticed a very red spot on his left hand. "What's that on your hand?"

"It's –" he started, lifting the hand and looking at it, "oh, it's nothing. J-just an insect bite." He didn't sound at all convincing, made worse by the fact that he hid the hand behind his back. "Never mind that I asked. I should prepare lunch."

With that he turned and went downstairs. Hermione stood in the doorframe, looking after him. Unconsciously she touched her left hand where her father had the red spot. Realization struck her like lightning. He had pinched himself, as if to wake from a dream. Her father thought he was dreaming. That explained his haunted look, the wet and ruffled hair – he probably had splashed water on his face – and of course his asking for demonstration. He didn't believe it was real. Hermione leaned against the doorframe. Her father thought it was only a dream. She dragged herself to her bed and sat down heavily, head hanging down, her bushy hair falling like a curtain around her face. She buried her face in her hands.

Her dad didn't believe her magic was real.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was immediately wide awake. She would see the magical world today. Buy her wand, her books. She dressed in a hurry and raced downstairs. Her parents were already up and obviously quite nervous.

The doorbell rang just as they finished breakfast. Hermione ran to the door as her mother quickly cleaned up the kitchen. David, however, followed Hermione closely.

She opened the door. Outside stood a pleasant-looking man with short, dark-blonde hair. Hermione thought he might be about as old as her father. She stared at him.

"You... you look... normal," she blurted out, then blushed hard as she realized that this was no way to greet a guest.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I expected -" She broke off before she could say another stupid thing, but the man merely chuckled.

"You expected me to look strange?" he asked. "Well, I don't usually wear this kind of clothing, but in the Muggle world I have to. You're Hermione Granger?"

"Yes. Please, come in."

"Thank you."

The man stepped into the house and greeted David and Jane, who just came out of the kitchen. David was fighting hard to keep his face impassive.

"Mr and Mrs Granger? Nice to meet you. I'm Professor William Wright."

"You're a professor?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. "Will you teach me?"

The wizard smiled and shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said. "I teach Muggle Studies, where children who grew up in the wizarding world can learn how the non-magical world works. Muggle-borns such as yourself don't take the subject."

"I'll take everything. I want to learn everything," Hermione said.

Professor Wright looked slightly taken aback.

"Well," he said slowly, "you don't have a choice until third year anyway. By then you should feel quite at home in our world and we'll see."

"Who says she's even going to Hogwarts?" David asked suddenly. Hermione looked at him in shock.

"Mr Granger," the professor said slowly, picking his words carefully, "you must understand that your daughter's ability is a very rare gift. She needs to go to Hogwarts to be able to use her magic."

"Magic. Why should I believe there is such a thing as magic?"

"Dad, I -" Hermione started, but Professor Wright raised a stalling hand.

"I understand your concerns. I can give you a short demonstration that will hopefully convince you that magic is real. Some place where we can sit down, maybe?"

"Oh, right, follow me," David said. He led them into the living room where they gathered around the table. Professor Wright took a smooth, wooden stick out of a pocket and held it up.

"This," he said, "is a magic wand. It's purpose is to channel and amplify the magical energy. Most spells require the use of a wand, and nearly all of them are considerably more effective if performed with one. We will buy a wand for Miss Granger today." He then pointed the wand at the fading flowers that stood on the table and performed a complicated movement. The vase and the flowers glowed brightly for a moment and then were gone. Instead there was a candle-holder with three burning candles. They all let out a gasp of surprise.

"Magic is ruled by similar laws of nature as physics. However, with magic we can do things that would be far slower or simply impossible with normal machines. The laws of magic allow more leeway than the laws of physics."

He gave the wand another wave and the candles, a moment ago straight and smooth, twisted themselves into tight spirals. Another flick and the flames turned from orange to blue.

The entire family stared. The wizard had just done things that seemed completely impossible and had seemed to give it no more thought than breathing. She would learn this, Hermione realized. One day she would be able to do all this.

The professor gave the wand yet another wave and the vase and flowers were back. He took a look at the withered leaves and shook his head slightly.

"Can't let them remain that way," he muttered and tapped the vase with his wand. Immediately the leaves straightened. The flowers opened fully again and regained their radiant colours.

"I love flowers," Professor Wright said. "They should remain fresh for a long time.

"Now," he turned to David, "we should get going. We will need some time in London."

David nodded without taking his eyes off the flowers. Then he abruptly turned away.

"How do we get there?" he asked.

"It would be best if we drive. With your car, if possible, because I'm going to leave you in London."

"We drive? Just drive?"

"Yes. Magical transport isn't suited to transport Muggles, they tend to get... confused, even by the methods they can use in the first place."

Hermione went to retrieve her equipment list and David got some cash. Professor Wrights had informed them that they wouldn't be able to use credit cards, so they would have to change cash into the wizarding currency. Then they got into the car and drove off to London, towards Hermione's future.

During the three-hour drive Professor Wright gave them a very packed introduction to the magical world. Hermione learned how wizards lived, that they had practically no modern technology such as electricity but instead used magic for all purposes. She learned about the Ministry of Magic which governed the wizarding world and kept the few relations to the Muggle world. She also learned about the four houses of Hogwarts, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and that all students got sorted into the houses according to their character traits. Bravery went to Gryffindor, cunning and ambition to Slytherin, loyalty to Hufflepuff and intelligence to Ravenclaw. The professor wouldn't tell how the Sorting worked, however.

"It's a surprise," he said. "That increases the effectiveness of the Sorting. It's actually forbidden to publish any works that mention it."

He also talked about subjects.

"There are eight required subjects in first year. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Astronomy, Herbology, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying. The flying lessons end after the first year. In third year you can choose among five additional subjects, and after the Ordinary Wizarding Level tests in fifth year you can choose your NEWT level courses."

He went on to describe the subjects more closely, until he came to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He didn't seem too happy to speak about it.

"The Dark Arts are the bad form of magic. There are bad people among wizards, just like everywhere else. But since wizards are more powerful than non-magic people they can cause more damage. Like all magic, theirs is fed by emotion. But the Dark Arts are fed by the bad emotions, like hate and jealousy.

"There hasn't been a real war in our world in centuries. But Dark wizards who try to gain power use guerilla tactics. This is why every individual in our world should be able to defend him or herself. Defence is where you will learn these skills.

"Fortunately," he continued in a much brighter tone, "the last Dark wizard was defeated ten years ago. There is currently no serious threat to our world."

"Still sounds very dangerous to me," David said darkly.

"It isn't. There are far fewer fatal accidents in our world than here. No car accidents at all, for example. Minor accidents are quite frequent, but magic can heal broken bones in seconds. There's absolutely no need to worry."

With that, Professor Wright moved on to explain the Hogwarts school system. The board of governors appointed the headmaster and also had the power to remove him. The headmaster in turn selected the teachers and the school prefects, students who helped enforcing the school rules.

When they reached the outskirts of London he finished a long speech about magical creatures and the hints Muggles got of them. Instead of answering more questions he guided David through the streets of London to their final destination. They parked the car in a side street and got out.

Hermione had been in London before, but the masses of people still amazed her. Men, women and children of all ages and appearances walked along the roads lined with shops of all kinds, seeming totally oblivious to anything around them.

"Perfect," Professor Wright observed. "The Leaky Cauldron is just ahead, between the book shop and the record shop."

Hermione looked where he pointed and saw an old and faded sign hanging in front of a small, shabby house. Drawn on it was indeed a leaky cauldron, a green potion spilling out of it. Hermione blinked. The potion was really spilling out of the cauldron even as she looked. The picture was moving. She looked up at Professor Wright, a puzzled expression on her face. He misread it, though.

"Can't see it?" he asked. "Look closely. Make yourself believe that there is indeed another building there."

"No, I can see it all right, sir. But the sign, it is moving."

"Oh, yes. Wizard pictures and photographs all move. Some are less active and simply move, like a film. Others have a consciousness of their own and can interact with people outside the pictures."

"But how come nobody notices the sign?"

"It is enchanted. There are Ignorance Charms on the whole building. They make people who don't expect the building to be there simply ignore its existence. It works on both wizards and Muggles, but better on Muggles. You wouldn't have noticed the pub if I hadn't pointed it out. Have you," he turned to Hermione's parents, "noticed it?"

They both shook their heads.

"Come on, then." They had drawn level with the book shop. The professor stopped.

"Look at the pavement in front of us," he instructed them. "Follow it with your eyes until the end of the book shop and then just a little bit further. Make yourself believe that there is another building there. Now follow the pavement sideways to the building and look at it."

Hermione saw her parents' eyes dart forward, then sideways, then widen in surprise.

"Wow," breathed her father.

"There you are. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to Diagon Alley." They stepped into the pub.

It was dark and smoky inside, even though there were few customers this early. Two wizards in dark robes sat in a corner, apparently in a heated discussion over a news article. A sour-looking witch ate a late breakfast in another corner. A few people were immersed in a card game. Nobody looked up when the small group entered, except for the barman.

"Hi, Will," he called out.

Professor Wright waved his hand in greeting.

"Hi, Tom," he said. "How's business?"

"You asked me that yesterday, too," answered Tom in mock indignation. "Still on duty, I see?"

"Oh yes, I never get a proper holiday. Not even time to stay for a drink."

"Indeed not. But I can expect you for lunch?"

"You certainly can. See you later."

Professor Wright led the Grangers out of the back entrance into a small, walled courtyard. Hermione looked around. It seemed to be a dead end; there was no way out except the door to the pub and there were only a few dustbins standing along the opposite wall. She turned to Professor Wright, only to see that he had his wand out and was walking toward the bins. He tapped a brick with his wand and turned around.

"This is the final barrier to prevent Muggles from finding Diagon Alley," he explained. "You need to tap the right brick to enter."

But for once Hermione didn't listen to him. She stared at the wall, where a small opening had appeared in the wall. It constantly grew larger, spiralling outwards. After a few seconds a large archway had formed, opening the way to the strangest street Hermione had ever seen. It was completely unlike any of the streets in outside London, which were usually paved and ran in straight lines. This street was cobbled and had several sharp bends, which greatly impaired Hermione's view of it. The shops that lined it had their wares out on display, like a huge bazaar. Right next to them was a shop selling cauldrons of all materials and sizes, many of them on display outside. On the opposite side of the street was an apothecary's, and next to it a shop selling writing supplies. Thick rolls of parchment could be seen through its windows and various quills from different birds were hanging from the shop's sign. The Augurey's Feather, the shop was called.

Slowly they walked down the street, looking around and trying to take in as much as possible. There were nearly as many people here as in Muggle London, and Hermione was astounded to see the strange mix of people that wandered past them. The adults all seemed to wear robes of some sort, but many of the children were dressed in clothes Hermione considered normal. Not that there was a lack of diversity in the robes. There were wizards in dark and heavy robes that looked stiflingly hot, even though the wizards seemed quite cool. There were wizards in wide, light cloaks in happy colours that shifted when the wind caught the robes. There was a short, unpleasant-looking witch in a conservatively cut robe of an aggressive pink. There was even an attractive witch wearing a robe that seemed to be transparent when Hermione didn't look at it, but was completely opaque once she focused. Small girls in knee-long robes darted around the adults in what seemed to be some sort of game.

Hermione shifted her attention back to the shops lining the streets. There was a pet shop ahead. Magical Menagerie, the sign said. Sitting in cages outside the shop were cats of all colours and sizes, various owls and, carefully placed apart from the other cages, some beautiful rats that ran around in their cages, occasionally doing cartwheels. Other creatures Hermione didn't recognize were on display too. A shallow bowl was filled with what looked like fluffy, custard-coloured balls, but they were obviously alive. A sign was attached to the bowl. Puffskeins, 8 sickles apiece, the sign read. Hermione watched in amazement as one of the creatures extended an incredibly long tongue that crept down the leg of the table the bowl stood on, then continued along the ground towards the shop entrance. Hermione went to get a closer look. The tongue suddenly shot a bit forward and wrapped itself tightly around a spider that had been crawling on the wall. Then it began its slow retreat back into the bowl. Hermione looked into the shop. In a corner stood a basket full of what looked like dog whelps except that they had forked tails. The mother had no tail at all but otherwise looked exactly like a dog.

Hermione walked on. After a sharp bend she could see another pet shop, but this one seemed to specialize on owls. Eeylops Owl Emporium, she read on its sign. Opposite the shop a small crowd of children was gathered around a shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies. More children came running, dragged along by a boy who was shouting: "The Nimbus Two-thousand is out. Come on, you gotta see it!" Hermione turned to Professor Wright.

"Professor, what's Quidditch?" she asked.

"It's the most popular sport in the wizarding world. You'll see it, there's a school league at Hogwarts."

"Look!" he said, pointing at a large, white building ahead. "That's Gringotts, the wizards' bank."

The building had high, burnished doors. Next to them stood a strange creature, humanoid in appearance but smaller, with long pointed ears and rumpled, swarthy skin, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold.

"That's a goblin," Professor Wright explained. "They run the bank. They're very clever and trustworthy when it concerns business. There's no safer place than Gringotts."

The goblin bowed to them as they entered the bank. They found themselves in a small hallway, facing a second pair of doors. These were silver, and engraved on them was a poem.

Enter, stranger, but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed, For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware Of finding more than treasure there.

"There are many spells that protect the underground vaults of Gringotts," Professor Wright said. "Some say there even are dragons. But we won't go down to the vaults, we only want to exchange money."

He led them through the doors and into the main hall. It was vast. The floor was made of marble, with marble pillars rising high into the air, supporting a marble ceiling with intricate patterns carved into it. Light flooded through tall windows into the hall. The footsteps of hundreds of people and goblins echoed in the room and quiet conversations filled it with a low mumbling. Along one side of the hall ran a long wooden counter. About a hundred goblins sat behind it, most of them occupied with customers, weighing coins or examining gems and other stones. Professor Wright went to one of the free goblins.

"Good day. We wish to exchange Muggle money," he told him.

Hermione's father, looking slightly flustered, reached into his pocket and pulled out several large bank notes, which he placed on the counter. The goblin reached for them with long, thin fingers and counted them swiftly. Then he started over, apparently checking the notes for forgeries. Satisfied, he placed them back on the counter and took a sack from under it.

"The current exchange rate is one Galleon for three pounds," he said in a raspy voice while counting out large gold coins. "Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Two-hundred pounds make sixty-six Galleons, eleven Sickles and nine Knuts."

A small mountain of golden Galleons lay on the counter when the goblin put the sack away and took out another one.

"Sixty Galleons, one-hundred and ten Sickles and ninety-six Knuts are better if you're about to buy school supplies though," he continued, with a short glance at Hermione, "so I'll give you this. Minus five sickles transaction fee."

He had erected a silver mountain of Sickles next to the Galleons and took out a third sack. Hermione was impressed by the speed with which he counted the tiny bronze Knuts. When a small hill of them was completed, he put the sack away and took out a large purse with the Gringotts sign printed on it and laid it next to the coins.

"For the coins, with compliments from Gringotts," he said. "Thank you for doing business with us."

Professor Wright took the purse and shoved the coins in it, then handed it to Mr Granger.

"There's no need to count," he said brightly. "Goblins don't cheat, and they don't make mistakes either. They know it only hurts them in the long run."

David gave the bag a doubtful look.

"Why are you using coins for large money? Do wizards really carry all this weight around with them?"

"Anti-forgery charms don't work on paper or parchment," Professor Wright explained. "But it doesn't matter. The coins are enchanted, they're far lighter than they look."

Mr Granger took the purse, his eyes widening in amazement.

"Indeed," he exclaimed. He pocketed the money and they left Gringotts.

"Now," Professor Wright said, "I think it's best if we visit Madam Malkin's first to get clothes, as they take some time to be completed." He lead them further down the street, past an ice-cream parlour called Florean Fortescue's and a grocery store, to a brightly coloured house that held a large bookshop, Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. They went in.

"Oh, hi Will," a squat, smiling witch called. She was dressed in a beautiful robe of pale yellow. "Bringing another Hogwarts student? Excellent. Come here, dear." She took Hermione by the hand and led her to a stool in the back of the shop. She slipped a long robe over Hermione's head and started pinning it to the right length. Next to Hermione another girl stood on another stool, with another witch working on her robes. Though you could hardly call her a girl, Hermione thought. She was half a head taller than Hermione, but twice as broad, with a square face, black hair and a heavy jaw. She shot a contemptuous look at Hermione, but otherwise didn't pay her any notice. Shortly afterwards she was done and stepped down from the stool, following the witch to the other side of the shop. Madam Malkin finished Hermione a little bit later and took her over to a desk full of heavy gloves made of a scaly, hard material. Hermione realized that it must have been dragon hide.

"Try them on," the shop owner told her. "Find a pair that fits well. They shouldn't squeeze anywhere, but they should fit tightly."

Hermione took a pair of gloves while Madam Malkin pulled a quill, a bottle of ink and some name tags from a drawer.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Hermione Granger, " Hermione answered. The gloves were a little too tight. She put them back and took the next larger size. They fitted perfectly. She handed them over to Madam Malkin.

"One final thing," Madam Malkin said. She took out a tape measure and wrapped it around Hermione's head. "Very well, that's all. Come back after lunch, the robes will be ready by then and I'll have a hat selected, too."

They entered the adjacent bookshop next. Hermione felt like in paradise. All around her shelves up to the ceiling were full of books of all kinds. Large books that seemed too heavy to hold, small books that fitted into a tiny pocket, square books, round books, books bound in leather, books bound in silk, books bound in linen, plain brown books, shining green books and books that shifted colour as she looked at them. The whole shop smelled strongly of parchment, a smell Hermione had never encountered before but which nevertheless seemed very familiar.

Professor Wright went to collect the set books on Hermione's list, leaving her free to look at the other books. They were divided into sections. Considering for a moment, Hermione then went straight to the History section and started scanning book titles.

Goblin Wars of the Thirteenth Century, Transcripts of Meetings of the International Confederation of Wizards and A Thorough Research of Patterns in the Wizarding Wars in Europe she dismissed as boring or else what they would learn in school anyway. But another title caught her eye. Hogwarts: A History was a very large book bound in dark brown leather. She pulled it out. There was the silhouette of a large castle on the front, with the coat of arms that she knew from the seal on her letter underneath. A golden lion on red background, a silver snake on green, a black badger on yellow and a copper eagle on blue. The book title formed a wide arch over the drawings in white letters. Hermione opened it on the last page. One-thousand, two-hundred and seventy-three pages, she saw. She needed this. Tucking it under her arm, she continued examining the books.

When she left she had two more books under her arms: Modern Magical History and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. She walked to the counter, where her parents, Professor Wright and a large stack of books were already waiting. She added her three books to the stack. Then she saw a small stack of thin booklets next to the counter. Simple Spells for Beginners, the books were called. She took one of these too.

The wizard behind the counter started to take the books off the stack, calculating the total price. When he held Hogwarts: A History in his hand, he paused.

"Can't remember when I last sold one of these," he said. "Hogwarts bought five of 'em for the library, but aside from that..."

All the books together were quite expensive and they left the bookshop with the purse considerably lighter and smaller.

"Let's get your wand, then we can go for lunch," Professor Wright said. "Ollivander is still a bit further down, nearly at the end of the street. He's the only wand-maker in all of Britain, but one of the best in the world. Eccentric man, though."

He led them to what seemed to be the oldest and shabbiest house in all of Diagon Alley. It didn't even have a sign, but there were the remains of gold letters over the door. Ollivanders: Makers of Find Wands since 382 BC, they read. A dusty window showed a single wand on a faded purple cushion.

They stepped inside. Somewhere in the back of the shop a tinkling bell rang, although Hermione could see no mechanism that could have triggered it. She looked around the gloomy shop. There was a small free space in the front with only a single chair in it. The rest of the long, narrow room was taken up by rows of shelves on which thousands of boxes were stacked. Hermione suspected that each contained a wand.

"Good day," a voice came from the dark.

An old man had appeared between the shelves and made his way towards their small group. His large, pale eyes almost seemed to shine in the dark. He looked at Professor Wright for a moment, but then turned to Hermione.

"Muggle-born, first year at Hogwarts," he said matter-of-factly. "Very well, let's see then. Which is your wand-arm?"

"He means your handedness," Professor Wright whispered in Hermione's ear.

"The right one," Hermione said.

"Very well. Hold out your arm. That's it." He took out a tape measure, which started to measure various things about Hermione on its own. It measured her from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. Meanwhile Ollivander continued to ask questions. She gave him her name and birthday, and various other trivia she didn't know were important. Then he went to the shelves and started taking down boxes, at the same time launching into a speech that seemed well rehearsed from countless repetitions.

"Every Ollivanders wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms Granger. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstring of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch's wand."

As an afterthought, he added, "Some wizards have to try hundreds of wands before finding one that chooses them. Though I dare say it won't take as long with you. Very distinctive, yes.

"This will do, for now," he finally announced. The tape measure, which had been measuring the length of her hair, fell to the ground. Ollivander brought about a dozen boxes to the counter and opened the first one. It contained a beautiful stick, reddish-brown in colour, with runes etched into the polished handle.

"Try this one. Hazel and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Elastic and very durable, as all hazel wands. Ought to fit you very well. Just give it a wave."

Hermione took the wand. Holding it tenderly between thumb and the first two fingers, she waved it through the air. Nothing happened.

Ollivander watched her carefully. She looked at him, confused as to what to do next. When he reached out for the wand, she handed it to him. He took it and twirled it in his fingers, staring at the runes.

"Strange," he said. "I was rarely so sure that ... well, never mind. Try this."

He opened the next box, taking out a wand that was a little longer than the previous, and lighter in colour.

"Birch and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Rather stiff for a birch."

Hermione took it and drew a circle into the air, but Ollivander snatched it out of her hand before she could even complete the circle. He gave her another, and another after that. He gave her wands made of ash, wands made of holly and wands made of teak. By the tenth wand, Hermione was getting slightly desperate. She hadn't noticed anything special about any of the wands – they might as well have been ordinary sticks of wood as far as she was concerned. She wondered if there were wizards or witches who found no matching wand, and what she would do if she didn't find one.

But Ollivander, after his initial reaction, had gotten merrier the more wands she tried.

"Try this," he said. "Very long for a witch, fourteen inches, willow and unicorn hair. Temperamental."

The wand felt strange in her hand when she took it. It itched. She gripped it more tightly. It didn't stop itching, but it also felt slightly warm. Emboldened, Hermione gave it a sharp jab. She looked at Ollivander to see if it was the right one, but he shook his head and took it from her.

"Not the one. There's tension, yes, but not the right kind. I wonder who this wand will choose..."

He placed it aside and looked at Hermione. She realized with a shock that all the wands he had taken down were tried.

"Nobody leaves Ollivanders without a fitting wand," Ollivander said, as if reading her mind. "It's not as easy as I thought, though. Let's try a different method."

He went back to the shelves and took three rather small boxes from them. On his way back he studied them intently and placed two on the table, opening the third.

"Vine and dragon heartstring, eight inches," he explained, taking out a slightly bent wand, one end wrapped in leather. "Don't be discouraged by the look, it's very powerful if used correctly, and accurate, too, though it doesn't look like it. A birthwood wand for you."

"Birthwood?" Hermione asked as she took the wand in her hand. But then she forgot to listen for an answer. It felt as if the leather was wrapping itself around her fingers, as if the wand became part of her hand. Warmth, real, filling warmth, spread from them through her hand and up her arm. And with the warmth came an unusual energy. In one fluent motion, she moved her arm to the left and then swung it all the way to the right, leaving a trail of colourful sparks in the wake of her wand tip.

"Yes, very good!" Ollivander shouted. Yells of excitement came from Hermione's parents. Professor Wright applauded. Hermione watched, delighted, as the sparks slowly sank towards the floor and vanished just before they touched it.

Ollivander put the wand back into its box, which he wrapped in brown paper. Hermione's father handed over six Galleons and Hermione took the box. Ollivander gave her a final bit of advice.

"Birthwood means that the vine from which this wand comes was both planted and cut on your birthday. This means that others won't fare well using your wand; it's more tightly bound to you than is usual. This can be an advantage, of course. The wand will be very powerful indeed if you are precise, but lack precision, and you will notice how quickly the power will dilute, and your magic will become unfocused and ineffective. Be careful, concentrate and learn well. Good luck!"

With this, he gave them a bow and disappeared in the depths of his shop.

Once outside, Hermione immediately unwrapped the wand and took it in her hand again. She felt the warmth in her fingers. This was her wand, her very own wand. It had chosen her. Feeling like she might explode from happiness, she replaced the wand in its box.

"How about returning to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch?" Professor Wright offered. "It's midday, and I for one am hungry."

They all agreed and made their way back through Diagon Alley. Tom gave them a private parlour and served them an excellent, if unusual meal. Hermione had never heard of any of the animals or plants they got, but it all tasted wonderful.

"It's Tom's way of welcoming people to our world," Professor Wright said with a smile, "he usually uses at least as many normal ingredients as magical ones."

When they were finished and Tom had taken away the plates, Professor Wright turned serious. He reached down to the packages and took out a book, which he laid on the table. The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Hermione read. Underneath the title a single large rune was engraved into the black leather.

"There are a few unpleasant things I still have to explain," he said. "This book contains all the known facts, but I think it's better to explain it in person, even if I don't like doing so." He sighed.

"I've told you about the emotions involved in the Dark Arts. In addition, practitioners of the Dark Arts usually seek only power and sometimes immortality. They know no love or mercy.

"There have been many Dark wizards over the time. Professor Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in 1945. He had many followers, and like most Dark wizard he preached the purity of blood." Wright grimaced. "He thought that Muggle-borns shouldn't be admitted to the wizarding world, that they would weaken us. It's nonsense, of course, but there have always been and still are wizards and witches who listen to this kind of nonsense. They hunted Muggle-borns and tortured or killed them."

"They what?" David erupted. "Are you saying that there are people who will hunt my daughter?"

"No, not any more," Professor Wright replied. "The wizards and witches who are openly hostile against Muggle-borns are all imprisoned. We have worked hard to ensure the safety of all who come to us."

David didn't really seem satisfied but said nothing. Wright continued, now even more hesitant than before.

"Grindelwald was harmless compared to the worst wizard of this century, maybe the worst wizard of all time. The one I speak of was not only evil, he was also frighteningly powerful, the second most powerful wizard of our time. Only Professor Dumbledore would have stood a chance in direct combat. This wizard gained power in the nineteen-seventies, and by nineteen-eighty few people dared to stand against him." A slight wavering entered Professor Wright's voice.

"It was a terrible time," he said quietly. "You never knew if you would come home to find all your family dead, never knew if you yourself would live to see the next day. People were so scared that nearly nobody even dared to speak this wizard's name. To this day, we still call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Those who did dare to say the name were killed, all of them except one. Professor Dumbledore. It was him who organized the resistance against You-Know-Who. But Hogwarts was the only safe place in the wizarding world, for Dumbledore's power protected it. Nowhere else could you be sure of any safety.

"I'm Muggle-born myself and I was at Hogwarts back then. I remember how scared I was. Scared of what awaited me outside the castle, scared of what could happen to people I knew. We all were. We hoped against hope that You-Know-Who would just disappear, would go away. But he grew more powerful every day, until our defeat seemed certain."

"Sounds like the perfect place for a little girl," David interrupted angrily. "Everybody is in danger of getting killed or worse, and her heritage makes her a likely target."

Professor Wright shook his head.

"No," he said, "this is no longer the same world as back then. For You-Know-Who was defeated in the end, though not by a force anyone expected. It wasn't Professor Dumbledore or any of his followers. The downfall of the Dark Lord was a baby.

"I don't think anyone save perhaps Professor Dumbledore knows why You-Know-Who went after the Potters, but he wanted to wipe out the entire family: the father, the mother and the baby child. He went to their house and managed to kill the parents, but, and that's the great mystery, when he tried to kill the baby the spell rebounded. You-Know-Who was destroyed. Harry Potter survived, with only a scar on his forehead. He is one of the greatest heroes of our time; he's The Boy Who Lived.

"The followers of You-Know-Who were shortly after all rounded up and imprisoned. Our world is now safe once again."

He paused for a while.

"Only Professor Dumbledore knows where Harry Potter lives now, but he's about Hermione's age, so he will come to Hogwarts this year too."

Hermione, who had listened with her head hung low and her eyes unfocused, looked up.

"He'll be in my year?" she asked.

"Yes, he'll be."

"Oh." It was all she could think of.

Professor Wright pushed the book lying on the table towards her.

"This book is probably the best account of the time of You-Know-Who. It also contains his true name, for I dare not speak it. And you shouldn't say it out loud either, for wizards react with fear to hearing his name and you don't want to attract this kind of attention."

It was a subdued party that made its way back into Diagon Alley. Hermione couldn't stop thinking about this wizard, someone who would torture and kill people like her just because they were born of Muggles, someone who would try to kill a baby! She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about the wizard at all.

Wright, in an attempt to cheer them up, invited them all to ice cream from Fortescue's. Hermione licked hers absently, still deep in her thoughts. Her mother shook her out of it, reminding her that the ice cream would run all over her clothes if she didn't pay attention. Wright laughed.

"Not much chance of that," he said. "Florean's ice cream doesn't melt until you eat it. It's the secret of his success, the thing that sets him apart from other similar shops here."

They got Hermione's clothes from Madam Malkin's, then bought the remaining school supplies. When they finally stepped back into Muggle London, they were all packed with parcels of varying sizes, including a trunk that Hermione would use to carry her things to Hogwarts. They dropped them into the trunk of the Granger's car.

"Very well, only one place left to go," Professor Wright said. "You need to know how to get on the school train. It departs from King's Cross, but it's hidden, much like Diagon Alley."

A short time later, they were at the train station.

"The Hogwarts Express departs from Platform Nine And Three Quarters," Wright explained. "There's no such platform for the Muggles of course. Here's what you do." The had reached platforms nine and ten.

"You walk straight at the barrier between the two platforms. Don't worry about crashing into it. Just walk on. I'll show you." He turned to Hermione's parents.

"You will have to wait outside. The barrier doesn't work for Muggles." Then he turned back to the platforms and, after a quick check to see if anyone was watching him, walked right into the barrier. It really looked as if he had gone into the interior of the solid barrier. Hermione looked around and then walked towards the barrier herself. She felt very foolish, but she didn't slow down and when she was absolutely sure she would run headlong into the wall there was suddenly an impression of rushing air around her. It stopped as abruptly as it had started and Hermione opened her eyes. She was standing on a train platform, deserted except for her and Professor Wright, who was smiling at her.

"Very good," he said brightly. "The train will depart on the first of September, at exactly eleven o'clock. Here's your train ticket." He handed Hermione a piece of parchment.

They went back outside together and out of the station. At the car, Professor Wright made his goodbyes.

"It was a very pleasant day," he said. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Hermione. Mr Granger, Mrs Granger."

"Thank you Professor," Hermione said. "Thank you for everything."

Wright shook all their hands and left. The Grangers got into the car for the drive home.


	5. Chapter 5

That evening, Hermione's father gave his final consent to sending Hermione to Hogwarts. He couldn't dispute the existence of magic any more, but he didn't seem very happy with the whole situation.

"This world sounds dangerous to me, I can't say I like it," he said. "But since you really want to go and after all the money we spent today, I suppose I'll have to swallow my objections."

Hermione spent the rest of the summer in her room or the garden, reading the books she had bought in Diagon Alley. Simple Spells for Beginners interested her the most, but the book recommended that she read Magical Theory first, so she started with that. She learned about the source of magical energy, of the limitations of magic and what enabled a human to do magic. When she had memorized the book, she could finally start the thin booklet.

Every young witch and wizard wants to do spells once they learn about their powers. But only few spells are easy enough to learn without help or preparation. This book presents these spells in a way that is easy to understand for both pure bloods and Muggle-borns. Please remember these important guidelines:

Be well rested whenever you attempt to do magic. Tiredness can lead to accidents.

Do not try any spells where anyone can see or hear you or the effects of your spell.

Don't give up. You can't expect any spell to work the first time you try it. Relax, read the instructions again and keep trying.

On it went, explaining the way to hold the wand and some pronunciation rules. Then, finally, it presented the first spell.

THE UNLOCKING CHARM Source: Hawaiian/Latin Discovered in: Unknown, very old Effect: Unlocks and opens doors shut with a mechanical lock or a simple shutting spell. Wand Movement: Tap the lock or door in question with your wand. Word: Alohomora (a-LO-ho-MOR-ra) Comments: This is a very easy, yet useful charm. It's presented first because of its easiness to pronounce and because there is nearly no chance of causing damage with a mistake. You can practice on any door at all. It is easier to open an unlocked door, so you might want to try that first.

Hermione, who had been lying on her bed, took her wand and walked over to the door of her room. She tapped the handle and said, "Allohomora." Nothing happened. She went back to the book and looked at the instructions again. The first 'a' was supposed to be a little longer. She went back to the door. "Alohomora," she said, tapping the handle again. There was a click and the door opened. Grinning, Hermione shut it again and turned the key. Then she repeated the spell. The key turned on its own, the door was open again. Satisfied for the moment, Hermione went back to her book.

She spent the rest of the day learning every spell in the booklet, reading late into the night, using not her usual reading light but her wand. One of the spells had been the Lumos spell, which made the end of her wand glow brightly. When Jane came in to say goodnight, she was very impressed by the shining wand and the other spells Hermione showed her.

"Nox," Hermione finally whispered and the room went dark.

As the summer continued, even David stopped being upset about Hermione's approaching departure to Hogwarts and started taking pride in his daughter's special ability. Not least, so Hermione suspected, because of the book Professor Wright had selected for her parents, Muggle-born, and the list of security measures at Hogwarts she had made for him. She had learned about them in Hogwarts: A History. The large book contained a wealth of information. She learned that the four sections of the coat of arms stood for the four houses at Hogwarts, which were named after the four founders of the school.

Hermione read on. She memorized all of the plants in One Thousand Magical Herbs And Fungi, learned about goblin rebellions, giant wars, dark wizards and Harry Potter. She read about the discovery of Dragon Fence Spells, which were a great aid to keeping dragons in their reservations, about the war with Grindelwald and his defeat and about You-Know-Who and Harry Potter. She found You-Know-Who's real name in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Lord Voldemort. It was written in very tiny script, as if the author had been afraid to write it. He probably had been, Hermione decided, and she could understand it. The book described the horrors of the dark times very lividly, supported by moving pictures that made her stomach clench. She also found the story about You-Know-Who's defeat by Harry Potter. There was more information here than in any of the other books, an account of all that was known about the boy and his parents. His mother, Lily Evans, was Muggle-born, his father, James Potter, of an old wizard family. The author hadn't been able to find out the boy's whereabouts after his parents' deaths, but rumor had it that he lived with Muggles.

The end of August approached. Hermione had learned all of her books by heart and her Alohomora spell unlocked even the front door with its complicated magnetic lock. Having nothing else to do she sat around, trying to work out which house she would be in. Gryffindor sounded the best. Professor Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor. Though she assumed she probably would be in Ravenclaw. Harry Potter would be a Gryffindor of course.

Harry Potter. He was magical, just like her. All the kids at Hogwarts would be magical, like her. For the first time she would meet people who were like her. For the first time she would find real friends, not just people who depended on her to get through school. She didn't really know what it was like to have friends, only what she had read in stories about real friends. It sounded wonderful.

And then it was the evening of the thirty-first of August. Jane sent Hermione to bed early, saying that they had to get up at seven if they were to reach the train in time. Hermione rolled around in her bed for hours, unable to sleep from excitement. She woke after what seemed only minutes of sleep, but her clock showed that it was six-thirty in the morning. She dressed and got up. Both her parents were already up too and sitting at the breakfast table. In no time at all they were finished and sitting in the car, driving to London. They arrived at King's Cross far earlier than they had expected, with more than an hour to spare. Jane fussed about as if she wanted to use the full hour for her goodbye, but Hermione was too eager to get onto the train to have any of it. After a few minutes she gave her parents a last wave and then, quickly checking if anyone was watching her, stepped through the barrier, pushing the trolley with her trunk ahead.

Platform nine and three quarters was largely deserted, but a red steam train was already waiting. Aside from Hermione there were only a boy and a girl on the platform, both in their late teens. They spotted her and came over.

"Hi. First year at Hogwarts?" the boy asked. Hermione nodded.

"Welcome, then. I'm Richard, this is Julie. We're Head Boy and Girl this year." So Hermione's guess had been right.

"I'm Hermione," she said.

"You're very early," Richard observed. Hermione blushed a little.

"I couldn't wait," she admitted.

"You're Muggle-born?" Julie asked. Hermione nodded again.

"You will like it at Hogwarts," Julie said, smiling. "Don't worry. Everybody likes it there."

"Come on, we'll help you with your trunk," Richard offered. He pulled out his wand and performed a swift gesture. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said. The trunk rose into the air and hovered there. Richard gave it a shove and it glided through the train door into the first compartment, where it landed on a seat.

"Levitation," Julie explained as she climbed into the train. "It's one of the first things you'll learn in Charms."

They ensured that Hermione was comfortable in her compartment and then went outside again.

"We have to keep order on the platform," Richard said. "See you in Ravenclaw, hopefully."

"Don't listen to him," Julie said, giving him a sly look. "Hufflepuff's the only house worth being in." They left the compartment quarrelling.

Hermione changed into her Hogwarts robe and looked out of the window. More students were slowly starting to arrive, trickling through the arch of wrought iron that was this side of the barrier.

Some came in alone, some in groups, some with their families. They gathered in small groups on the platform. Some walked among the groups, apparently looking for friends. A few, probably the prefects, were approached by Julie and Richard and went to the front end of the train. Others boarded the train too, but nobody came into Hermione's compartment. Hermione saw the ugly girl from Madam Malkin's again, together with a few other young, mean-looking girls.

Time went by. More and more people boarded the train, but the platform seemed to become more crowded instead of less. A dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks was attracting a small crowd with something he was hiding in a box.

There was a knock before the compartment door slid open. A girl with long, dark brown hair which she wore in a plait was standing outside.

"Do you mind if I sit there?" she asked.

"Not at all," Hermione replied, smiling. She stood up to help the girl with her trunk. "Are you a first-year too?"

The girl nodded. "I'm Susan Bones."

"Hermione Granger."

The girl sat down in the seat opposite Hermione, who continued to look out of the window. A red-haired boy had just appeared through the gateway and headed towards Richard. Two more red-haired boys, twins by their looks, followed in quick succession. They ploughed a way through the crowd around the boy with dreadlocks and greeted him heartily with a long and complicated handshake sequence which ended with one of the twins getting behind the boy and giving him a hard push into the other twin. Hermione grinned and looked back at the gate. Three more red-heads had appeared: a boy of about her age, a small girl and, holding her hand, a woman who probably was the mother of all these children. She was looking around, trying to see over the heads of the students to find her own.

Another knock on the door distracted Hermione. A round-faced boy came in, dragging his trunk with one hand and clutching a big, ugly toad with the other.

"Do you have a seat left?" he asked timidly.

Susan nodded towards one of the empty seats. The boy placed his toad carefully on the other and heaved his trunk into the overhead rack.

"I'm Neville," he said. "Neville Longbottom." The girls introduced themselves and he sat down.

Shortly after that the train began to move. Parents and siblings were waving, and the small red-haired girl was running along with the train until it gathered too much speed for her. The train sped through London, a good deal faster than Hermione would have expected any steam train to go. Soon inner London gave way to the outskirts, then the outskirts to open land. Hermione's stomach felt like someone had blown it up. She was on the school train to Hogwarts, off to learn magic.

"So," started the other girl in their compartment, making Hermione jump, "any idea what houses you two will be in?"

The boy just shook his head. Hermione felt her voice strangely hindered by her stomach.

"Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," she finally said very quickly. "And you?"

"Hufflepuff," Susan answered with certainty and pride. "All my family's been in it."

Neville looked at her, puzzlement in his face, but very quickly looked down again when she noticed his look. Hermione wanted to ask what that was about, but was stopped by the compartment door opening. A smiling and generally very friendly-looking witch stood outside with a trolley of food.

"Anything off the trolley?" she asked. All three stood up and went outside. Hermione's eyes went wide. She didn't know any of the things the witch sold. There were bags of small, colourful beans labelled Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, packages of Droobles Best Blowing Gum, boxes of Chocolate Frogs, rows of Pumpkin Pasties, stacks of Cauldron Cakes and a pile of Liquorice Wands. She ended up buying some pasties and cakes and a box of beans. Having two dentists as parents discouraged her from buying any of the other sweets.

They returned to their compartment. Susan unwrapped a pasty and started to eat it, while Neville opened his own Every Flavour Beans and took out a green one. He sniffed at it and nibbled the end carefully. He nodded to himself, looked around, his eyes suddenly going wide, and asked, "Have you seen Trevor?" There was a slight note of panic in his voice.

"Trevor?" Hermione asked.

"My toad," Neville explained. "He keeps getting away. He could be anywhere and I want to give him the bean, he'd like it. How am I going to find him on the train?" he wailed.

"Look," Hermione tried to comfort him, "he's probably still in this compartment. Come on, we'll help you search." But the toad wasn't in the luggage rack, nor under the seats. Neville looked close to tears by the end of their search.

"Maybe someone has seen him," he said desperately, "I'll go and ask." With this he left the compartment.

"Odd," Susan commented as she sat back on her seat.

"What's odd?" Hermione asked.

"It's odd that he loses the toad. They usually sit where you put them or crawl a bit away, but never that far. It's also odd that he brings a toad at all. I mean, they're so out of fashion, it's a good way to get people to make fun of you."

Some time passed without Neville returning. The farms ended and forests began. Hermione grew anxious.

"Do you think we should help him?" she asked. Susan looked up from the book she was reading.

"Maybe," she answered. "But we shouldn't leave the compartment completely empty."

"You stay here then, I'll go looking for him."

In way of an answer, Susan buried her nose in her book again. Hermione got up and left the compartment. She was lucky that the compartment was at one end of the train, she couldn't miss Neville this way. She strode along the train, casting glances into the compartments where people were talking, eating and laughing. But no Neville. Finally, near the end of the train, she spotted his round and worried face.

"No luck?" she asked. Neville just shook his head. He looked miserable.

"Come on, I'll help you. We'll just ask everybody again."

They slowly made their way back through the train. At each compartment Hermione asked for signs of the toad, but no one could help them. She opened another door and said, "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Only after the words were out of her mouth did she take the scene in the compartment in. On one seat sat a thin boy in too-large clothes. They hung on him like old bags. The seats were littered with sweets and their packages. But Hermione's eyes were drawn to the second boy, who was obviously the youngest of the red-headed family she had seen on the platform. There was a rat sleeping in his lap, he had his wand in his hand and raised and his mouth was opened to speak. She hardly noticed him turning to her, saying, "We already told him we haven't seen it."

"Oh, are you doing magic?" she asked. "Let's see it, then." She brushed a seat clear of trash and sat down, anxious to see someone else, someone from a wizarding family, do magic.

"Er... all right," the boy said, somewhat surprised. He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Hermione was puzzled. The spell was apparently supposed to turn the grey rat yellow, but it didn't sound like any of the spells she had done. It also hadn't worked. Maybe she didn't have all that much catching up to do? The balloon in her stomach suddenly seemed to pop, releasing a flood of things she wanted to say.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" she started. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard... I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough... I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

The boys exchanged stunned looks. What was up with them?

"I'm Ron Weasley," the red-head muttered.

"Harry Potter," the other said. Hermione's eyes went wide. This was the Boy Who Lived? This boy, with messy, jet-black hair, glasses that were mended with Sellotape and second-hand clothes was the hero of the wizarding world? And he proclaimed it like it was nothing special at all.

"Are you really?" Hermione blurted out. "I know all about you, of course... I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

Harry's face had gone completely blank. "Am I?" was all he said. Didn't he know? Maybe, if he had lived with Muggles, he had been so shut from the Wizarding World... but that was impossible.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," she said. Then a new thought popped into her head.

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..." She hadn't really asked around, but she had read a few books, she had seen Richard and Julie bickering and she had heard the pride in Susan's voice and it was the same to her. "Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon." At the speed the train was going, this seemed to be a reasonable assumption. She stood up and left the compartment, taking Neville with her.

"Harry Potter," Neville whispered in awe. "I am at school with Harry Potter." He didn't seem too happy about it, though.

Hermione shook her head ever so slightly.

None of the next compartments offered any clue to Trevor's whereabouts either, and they slowly drew closer to their own compartment. Hermione slid open another door and launched in her usual phrase.

The answer were chuckles and sneers. The compartment was quite cramped with three boys, two of them huge, and two girls. Hermione recognized one of them as the ugly girl she had seen in Diagon Alley. The girl eyed her with contempt.

"Lost a toad, has he?" a drawling voice asked. It belonged to the smallest of the boys, who had pale skin and very light hair. "Well, that's a real pity. I'm so sorry for him." He didn't sound sorry at all, though. The other boys guffawed stupidly and the girls let out high, shrieking giggles.

"Maybe he'll get a proper pet now," the boy continued. "Really, he should be thankful that he's lost the toad." At the word toad he wrinkled his nose. Neville's face had gone completely red.

"Really, who do you think you are, talking like that?" Hermione asked coldly.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the boy answered, his sneer replaced by loathing. "And in case you didn't know, the Malfoys are very important."

"Well, Harry Potter is very important too and he was polite." She shut the door hard and stalked away.

Darkness was slowly settling in. Hermione and Neville continued their search all the way to the front, but Trevor didn't turn up. When they reached their own compartment, Hermione excused herself to speak with the driver. She went past the prefects' compartments to the engine, where she found not only the driver but also the witch with the trolley. They were both very friendly and told her that it wasn't too long now. As she turned to go she saw something that made her smile: Neville's toad was sitting on the trolley, well hidden between the various snacks. She took up the toad and went back to her compartment. Neville fell over himself in thanking her. She waved it off and Neville set to feeding some Every Flavour Beans to the toad.

Hermione sat back down but found that she couldn't sit still. They were nearly at Hogwarts now. The balloon had come back. She decided to wander the corridors once more.

People must have grown bored in the compartments, because they were now out in the corridors in greater numbers than before. Children of Hermione's age and a little older were racing up and down the corridors, behaving, in Hermione's opinion, like six-year-olds. She walked on the rear end of the train, hoping that things would be more quiet there.

They weren't. She had reached the second to last wagon when she heard a cry of pain ahead of her. She quickened her steps. Opening the door to the last wagon, she saw the arrogant boy with the silver-blonde hair – Malfoy? – run out of a compartment in the back, followed by the other two boys she had seen with him. One of them was clutching his hand. When they saw her, they quickly disappeared in another compartment.

Hermione ran to the door they had been coming out from. It was where she had met Harry Potter. She stuck her head into the compartment. The sweets that had previously been lying on the empty seats were scattered all over the floor. Harry was still looking at the door, surprise in his eyes. Ron was picking up his rat from the floor.

"What _has_ been going on?" she asked.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry, completely ignoring her. He fussed over his rat. "No... I don't believe it... he's gone back to sleep."

The rat seemed indeed to be sleeping, but Hermione couldn't judge accurately from the door. The boys still ignored her.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked Harry now.

"Yeah, in Diagon Alley, at Madam Malkin's. Didn't like him even then. When he heard my parents were dead he only asked if they were a witch and a wizard. Drawled something about how the 'other kind' shouldn't be admitted to Hogwarts. Git."

"I've heard of his family. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." Ron said this in a dark voice, then decided to finally acknowledge Hermione's presence. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on," she answered testily, "I've just been up to the front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

They didn't like to hear it. Ron scowled at her. Well, it was true.

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," he said. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

No, she didn't mind.

"All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors. And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" He glared even harder at her than before. She turned away abruptly, her hair flowing behind her.

She went back to her own compartment. Before she reached it the driver's voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." She ran back to the compartment. People were coming out of the doors and filling the corridor. She fought her way through the crowd. The train slowed and came to a stop just as she had reached the front of the train. She joined Susan and Neville and stepped out of the train. The air was cold, goosebumps were crawling up her arms. Then she forgot about the cold.

A giant of a man, three times as high as her, was walking towards the students, carrying a lantern which he held high over their heads.

"Firs'-years!" the giant called. "Firs'-years over here! All right there, Harry?" So he knew Harry Potter. Well, most people probably knew him, or at least of him.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

It was good advice. The ground was very slippery and the path they walked was narrow and steep. It seemed to be enclosed in something, but it was so dark by now that Hermione couldn't see what. Neville, who walked right in front of her, seemed to have special difficulties. She heard him muttering to himself, sniffing occasionally.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called, "jus' round this bend here."

People in front of Hermione stopped in their track, shouts of wonder rising up in the air. Hermione couldn't yet see the castle and grew impatient. Then she finally rounded the bend herself. Her mouth fell open. A dark, large lake was stretching out in front of her. Whatever had been lining the path had gone and she was standing on a wide shore now. But her eyes were drawn to the lights in the distance. There, on top of a high mountain, stood Hogwarts. She couldn't find words to properly describe it. It was an enormous castle with seemingly thousands of windows which were sparkling in a contest with the stars in the night sky. Turrets and towers were reaching up like tentacles or the stems of some exotic plant. The banners on top of them seemed to be glowing; they were easily visible in the darkness, flowing with the wind.

Someone pushed her forward from behind. She nearly fell, but caught herself and stumbled forward. As if a spell had been broken she now started noticing her surroundings properly. On the water in front of her bobbed a fleet of little boats. They weren't tied anywhere, but they didn't flow away. The giant was pointing at them.

"No more'n four to a boat!" he called. Hermione followed Neville to a boat and sat down on one of the benches in it. Harry and Ron were sitting on the other bench.

"Everyone in?" the giant shouted. He was alone in a boat. "Right then... FORWARD!"

The boats seemed to be enchanted in a similar way as the parchment of her letter. Obeying the command, they all started moving towards the mountain and castle. Complete silence had settled over the lake. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water and no one made a noise. Everyone was staring at the castle, which drew slowly nearer and looked even more impressive when it was towering high over them. The boats were heading directly towards the steep cliff that was on this side of the mountain.

"Heads down!" the giant commanded. The first boats had reached the cliff and disappeared through a curtain of ivy. Hermione and the others bent their heads as they entered a dark tunnel that was hidden by the curtain. When the boats finally stopped, she guessed that they must have been directly underneath the castle. They had reached some sort of harbour.

When all the students had arrived and climbed out of the boats, the giant checked all the boats once again.

"Oy, you there!" he called to Neville. "Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville cried. He took the toad from the giant. Hermione shook her head ever so slightly.

There was a narrow tunnel leading up from the harbour. The giant led them up the tunnel until they finally reached the surface. The came out on smooth, damp grass, right next to the castle's main entrance. A single flight of stone steps led up the the large, oak door. There they stopped. The giant looked around.

"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?"

He raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	6. Chapter 6

The door opened immediately. Light flooded out of the hall behind it so that Hermione couldn't see anything but a figure standing in the mid of all the light. It was a tall witch (though she looked tiny standing in the huge doorway) wearing emerald-green robes. Her black hair was drawn in a tight knot and her face radiated calm. One look told Hermione that this woman was stern but fair.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Her voice was crisp and her pronunciation exact, fitting her appearance. She opened the door completely and Hermione finally got a look into the castle. What she saw made her hold her breath. The entrance hall was enormous, at least as big as her own house. Flaming torches lined the stone walls, filling the hall with light and illuminating the flagged floor, but not the ceiling, which was so high up that Hermione couldn't see it. A marble staircase, more beautiful than any similar object Hermione had ever heard of, led from the opposite end of the hall to the upper floors.

From a doorway to the right came hundreds of voices, but Professor McGonagall led them to the left into a small room, where they gathered in a crowd, keeping close together in an attempt to reduce their nervousness.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes swept over the assembled children, lingering for a moment on some, to let the speech sink in. A few students fingered their clothes or hair nervously.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," she continued. "Please wait quietly."

She turned around and left.

Whispers immediately started up all around Hermione. For her part, Hermione resolved not to lose as much as a single point for her house, whatever it might be. Then Harry's voice caught her ear.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked his friend.

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron answered. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Everyone had heard it. Complete, stunned silence settled upon the children. Hermione screw her eyes shut in an effort to ignore the horrified looks all around her. If there was a test, she'd have to revise. She started to go over all the spells she had learned, repeating the exact pronunciation of the incantations, mentally performing wand movements, recalling every bit of knowledge from Magical Theory, dismissing spells she thought she wouldn't need.

Screams interrupted her. She opened her eyes and let out a gasp. About twenty pearly-white and slightly transparent figures were floating through the room, seemingly oblivious to the students in the room. With a start Hermione realized that they must have been ghosts. They were arguing. The ghost of a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance..."

"My dear Friar," a ghost wearing medieval clothes, complete with a ruff around his neck, interrupted him, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost... I say, what are you all doing here?" The ghost had noticed them.

Nobody dared to answer the question.

"New students!" the monk said, giving them a knowing smile. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

Hermione gave a little nod, noticing other people doing the same.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff. My old house, you know."

"Move along now," came the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Hermione was grateful when the ghosts gave them another smile and disappeared through the wall.

"Now, form a line and follow me."

Slowly the students started to move. Everyone of them looked just as nervous as Hermione was, if not more. They marched across the entrance hall towards the voices. The double doors that must have been the entrance to the Great Hall stood tall and menacing, as if Hermione's worst fear was hiding behind them. Then they opened.

All nervousness was forgotten when Hermione saw the hall. She had read a description in Hogwarts: A History, but the real hall by far surpassed even her wildest imagination. Four long tables took up most of the space, stretching nearly the entire length of the hall, plates and goblets glittering golden on them and students of all ages sitting on the benches. At the other end of the hall on an elevated platform stood another table for the school staff. They were all sitting on the far side of the table, facing the hall. Hermione recognized Professor Wright on the far right. Then her eyes darted upwards to where she knew she would find...

Even though she knew what to expect, nothing could have prepared her for this. Thousands of candles – over seven thousand, she recalled – were floating in the air, spreading their warm and bright light over the hall. And beyond those the Great Hall's ceiling, bewitched to look like the sky outside. Stars were twinkling in the dark, looking so realistically that Hermione wondered if there really was a ceiling there. Could magic really do this?

A gentle push from behind made her aware that she had stopped walking. She quickly caught up with the line, which now had reached the space in front of the teacher's table. There they stopped, facing the hall, terribly conscious of the hundreds of eyes resting on them.

"What was that about?" asked the girl behind her.

"Look up," Hermione whispered back, not daring to take her eyes off the hall. A sharp intake of breath told her that the girl had followed her advice anyway.

"There's no ceiling there!" the girl whispered in panic.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispered back. It felt good to be able to calm someone else, it made herself feel calmer too. She watched as Professor McGonagall placed first a four-legged stool in front of them and then a wizard's hat on top of the stool. She had never seen such a shabby hat before. High and pointed like the hat she herself had bought for school, it was not black and shiny like hers. Instead it seemed to be a faded grey, but it was hard to tell as most of the hat was covered with patches and the rest very dirty. She wondered what they were supposed to do with such a thing.

Just touching it would be test enough, she heard her father's voice whispering.

Hermione suppressed a grin. Everyone in the hall was staring at the hat, the first-years like it would bite them, the older students expectantly. Then the hat twitched. The girl next to Hermione flinched. A rip near the brim of the hat sprang open and the hat started to sing:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!

Thundering applause burst out, nearly drowning out the relieved breaths and whispers of the first-years as they realized that they would merely have to put on the hat. The hat bowed to each table and then became still again.

Professor McGonagall came forward again, carrying a thick roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said as she unrolled the parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah Abbott was a pink-faced, blonde girl. She ducked a little as she walked towards the hat as if to hide from the people who were all looking at her. She took the hat, sat down and put in on her head, where it covered half her face.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat after a moment.

The table on the right clapped and cheered as Hannah took her place.

"Bones, Susan!"

Susan got her wish. The hat had sat on her head for less than a second before it proclaimed her a Hufflepuff. She hurried to the table with a smile on her face.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The boy went towards the table second from the left, which was clapping just as hard as the Hufflepuffs had before.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy," the girl next to Hermione, went to Ravenclaw too. "Brown, Lavender" was first to be sorted into Gryffindor. Then...

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" Hermione recognized the unpleasant girl from Madam Malkin's.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The names came close to G and Hermione's excitement grew. "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was sorted into Hufflepuff, "Finnigan, Seamus" into Gryffindor. The hat took very long with Seamus, sitting on his head for nearly a minute.

"Goyle, Gregory!" The large boy who had been holding his hand in the train came forward. The hat took his time. Hermione knew she would be next and the thought nearly made her explode.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat finally shouted. And so, finally...

"Granger, Hermione!"

Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she nearly ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her had. Her hair prevented it from falling over her head completely, but it still covered her eyes and everything went dark. Time seemed to stretch out.

"Oh, interesting," a voice finally said. Hermione wasn't sure if she heard the voice through her ears or if it simply was in her head. "Yes, interesting. Not easy. A lot of ambition, indeed. But not a drop of magical blood that's not your own, that won't do. Hmm... Loyal, indeed, and a hard worker. And talent! And what a mind, yes, yes. Ravenclaw? But there's a lot of courage there, too. Which is stronger? Hum, hum..."

The hat mumbled and grumbled to himself, pondering her fate. After what seemed like an eternity it finally said coherent words again.

"Well, you fit just about everywhere. But I have to decide after all, even if I don't want to. You seem to favour Gryffindor yourself. Why though? Because of Dumbledore? Strange reason for a house wish. Fitting for a Slytherin maybe, but not... Well, a choice is a choice. It might be for the best. So...

"GRYFFINDOR!" He had shouted the last word out loud. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding, took off the hat and joined the cheering Gryffindor table on the far left. She sat down opposite of Lavender Brown, next to the red-haired prefect.

"Congratulations," he said as he clapped her on the shoulder. "I'm Percy Weasley, Gryffindor Prefect." Hermione nodded. There was no use in repeating her name.

The Sorting went on. "Greengrass" ... "Idle" ...

Then Neville Longbottom was called. He tripped on the way to the stool. Giggles rose from the Slytherin table. Going very red, Neville sat down and put the hat on his head. It didn't cover his eyes. Hermione watched as time went by and Neville still sat on the stool, his face slowly taking on the colour of ash. When it finally declared him a Gryffindor he jumped up and ran towards the table – still wearing the hat. Laughter rang through the hall as he went back and handed the hat over to "MacDougal, Morag". Hermione felt sorry for him.

Morag was followed by Draco Malfoy. His stance, his way of sitting down and his way of setting the hat on his head clearly showed that he alone was the master of his fate and this all really beneath him. All in all, Hermione thought, he looked like a complete jerk. The hat touched his head only for a moment before sorting him into Slytherin. Looking extremely pleased with himself he walked to his table and joined his big friends Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione noticed that only few people were sorted into Gryffindor. "Moon", "Nott", "Parkinson" and "Patil, Padma" all went to different houses before "Patil, Parvati" became a Gryffindor. She didn't look happy when she joined the table, but that might have been because her twin sister was in Ravenclaw.

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"Potter, Harry!"

A moment of silence, then:

"Potter? Did she say Potter?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

Heads rose all over the hall to get a better look as Harry's head disappeared in the hat. Everything went silent, except for the occasional struggle between students who were blocking each other's sight. Even the teachers leaned forward. And nothing happened. Time went by. Half a minute, one minute. Hermione could see Harry's lips moving soundlessly. Even a whisper would have been heard in the entire hall. No one dared make a noise any more. Harry clenched his fists, lips moving even faster than before. And then, like thunder:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall went from total silence to deafening shouts in a heartbeat. Some people at the Gryffindor table even jumped up. The red-haired twins, probably Weasleys too, had started a chant: "We got Potter! We got Potter!" A few other people joined in.

Hermione shouted and clapped with the rest. She was in the same house as the hero of the wizarding world. She noticed that the non-Gryffindors looked disappointed.

Harry came to the table like in a trance, obviously not noticing any of the shouts. He sat down near Hermione, opposite the ghost with the ruff they had seen earlier. Percy stood up and shook his hand and the ghost leaned into the table to pat Harry's arm. Harry's face went from relief to shock in an instant as the ghost touched him. It probably wasn't pleasant to be touched by a ghost.

Hermione only looked back to the unsorted first-years when the hat yelled again, making Dean Thomas, a tall black boy, another Gryffindor. Some people clapped and shouted, but most were still too occupied to notice the boy sitting down opposite Seamus Finnigan.

Three people were still standing in the line. "Turpin, Lisa" became a Ravenclaw. "Weasley, Ronald", slightly green by that time, joined Gryffindor. He fell rather than walked to the table and slumped into a chair next to Harry. Percy nodded to him and said, "Well done, Ron, excellent."

"Yes, well done Ronniekins," chimed one of the twins in.

"Shut up, Fred," Ron muttered.

"Oh, mum will be _so_ proud," the other twin said, clapping his hands together and sighing.

"You too, George."

"Zabini, Blaise" had been sorted into Slytherin by that time and Professor McGonagall had rolled up her scroll and taken the Sorting Hat away. The ceremony was over and the feast was about to begin. Hermione noticed that she was very hungry by now. But there was no sign of food yet.

At the centre of the staff table an old man stood up. Hermione recognized him from a drawing in one of her books: Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. He silver beard and hair were so long that he had tucked both into his belt. Behind his half-moon spectacles, which rested upon a long and crooked nose, were piercing, light blue eyes. His robes were of a deeper blue, red and yellow butterflies fluttering around on them. He raised his wrinkled hands for silence.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down as cheers and applause once more sounded through the hall, mostly from older students.

"Is he... a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy, voicing Hermione's own thoughts.

Percy laughed.

"Mad? He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

It looked as if he had conjured a large bowl of potatoes out of nowhere, but then Hermione noticed that the entire table was laden with food.

Reflecting on the marvels of magic, she helped herself to a little bit of everything. It was the most delicious meal she had ever had in her life, and that was saying something. For a while she concentrated on eating and didn't notice anything around her. Ron's sudden shout changed that: "I know who you are! My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

It was addressed at the ghost with the ruff, who looked indignant. "I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy..." he started, but was interrupted by sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan.

"_Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

The ghost looked even more upset than before. He reached for his left ear.

"Like _this_," he said and pulled. Hermione nearly choked as his head came loose and fell off his neck – or nearly so. A small bit of skin still connected the head, which was lying on the ghost's shoulder now, to the rest of the body. After a moment Sir Nicholas put his head right and gave a small cough.

"So... new Gryffindors!" he said. "I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor have never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

There was indeed a horrible and very bloody ghost sitting at the Slytherin table, next to Draco Malfoy who clearly didn't enjoy the company.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked.

"I've never asked." Nick's tone made it plain that he didn't intend to either.

After the main course the plates magically wiped themselves clean and the puddings appeared. The table resembled the counter of a sweet shop and confectioner's shop combined. Cakes, ice cream, doughnuts, fruits and more desserts, some of which Hermione didn't recognize. Again she took a bit of everything.

"My parents wouldn't like this," she said. Incredulous looks turned to her.

"Why not? It's wonderful!" Dean Thomas objected.

"It's the sweets, my parents are dentists, they don't approve of that much sugar, though I think that they might make an exception," she added with a smile. "It's a special occasion after all."

"You're Muggle-born?" Parvati Patil, an Indian girl with long, plaited, black hair asked. Hermione nodded.

"Me too," Dean said. "But we've been expecting something like this for quite some time, after all the things I did. Still, to actually have it come true..." He trailed off, a blissful smile on his face. The others smiled too.

"I'm half and half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." He got a good deal of laughter for his story.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Ron.

Hermione's attention was fading. Neville had told her on the train how he had been brought up by his grandmother and how his family had thought he wasn't magic, despite being of a wizarding family. How his great-uncle had tried to force some magic out of him, nearly killing him. How this great-uncle had held him out of the window and then accidentally let him go. How Neville had bounced all the way down the garden path like a ball. His great-uncle had been so happy that he had bought Neville the toad Trevor, which was how the subject had come up in the first place.

Instead Hermione turned to Percy, who was just helping himself to more vanilla ice cream.

"Want some more too?" he asked her.

"No, thanks, I've had enough."

"So, do you like it here?"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded fervently. "Everything here is so great, I can't wait for classes. I do hope they start straight away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult, but I'm sure I can do it."

Percy gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing. And if you have any difficulties you can always come to me or another prefect. We can arrange for someone to help you."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. It's the Prefects' job to help the young students adjust, among other things. Especially the Muggle-borns. Father always tells me how important you are for us, even if some people don't believe it. Well, none of that in Gryffindor, we're..." He cut off as Harry let out a small yelp and clapped a hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" the prefect asked.

"N... Nothing." Harry looked confused. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" Percy said. "No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Following Harry's glance, Hermione saw two teachers in conversation. One had his back turned to them. He was wearing yellow robes and a weird purple turban. Hermione could see no more of him, except that he was nervously rubbing his hands against each other. The other was facing them. He looked very unpleasant with his greasy, black hair, sallow skin and a hooked nose. He didn't seem nervous at all, so Hermione supposed that he was Professor Snape, the Potions master, which made the other Professor Quirrell.

"What do they all teach?" Hermione asked Percy.

"Professor Quirrell teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts. He's the one with the turban. To his right is Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Then Hagrid, you probably know him already. He's the gamekeeper. Next to him, Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher and Professor Wright of Muggle Studies. On Professor Dumbledore's other side there's Professor McGonagall, she teaches Transfiguration. Then Professor Sprout, Herbology. The tiny wizard is Professor Flitwick, he teaches Charms. Amazing wizard. Professor Vector, Arithmancy, Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor, Madam Pomfrey, the hospital matron and our teaching ghost, Professor Binns. He teaches History of Magic. Professor Dowsing, he teaches Ancient Runes. And of course Mr Filch, the caretaker. Don't get on his bad side."

Hermione went over the faces again, memorizing their names. Then the dishes in front of them cleared and the headmaster stood up once again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem... Just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's eyes rested on a spot at the Gryffindor table for a moment. The Weasley twins put on very innocent faces at once.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few people laughed, but Hermione furrowed her brows. Die?

"He's not serious?" she heard Harry mutter to Percy.

"Must be," Percy muttered back. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere... The forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us Prefects, at least."

"And now," cried Dumbledore enthusiastically, "let us sing the school song!" He flicked his wand, oblivious of the poorly hidden pained expressions on many faces in the hall. A long golden ribbon emerged from the tip of the wand and rose high into the air, where it started to form words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

It was total chaos. Not a single tune could be recognized and not a single tune fitted the words either. Although, Hermione thought as she sang to the melody of "Singing in the Rain", there probably was no tune that fitted these lyrics.

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff, For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot.

It was, despite everything else, an inspiring song. The Weasley twins finished last by a good deal, having picked a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore was the only one who was happy about this and he conducted their last few lines with his wand. Modest applause followed.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping tears from his face. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Percy jumped up immediately.

"First-years, follow me!" he called and walked towards the doors. Hermione followed him on his heels.

They went out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase, through doors hidden behind tapestries and walls that weren't really there, up more staircases, down other staircases, past portraits that waved and pointed and through long corridors lit by torches. Hermione tried to memorize their path, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to remember it in the morning, it was so long and twisted and she was very tired by now. Her eyes began to droop as she went over all the crossways they had passed again. Then they snapped open. A bundle of walking sticks was floating in the air ahead of them. Percy held out a hand to stop Hermione and took a step forward. The sticks suddenly wriggled and threw themselves at him one by one.

"Peeves," Percy whispered. "A poltergeist." Louder, he said, "Peeves! Show yourself."

He only got a loud, rude sound as an answer, probably the ghost blowing a raspberry.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

Peeves appeared with a pop. He looked like a small man, not pale and transparent like the other ghosts, but far more opaque and dressed in coloured robes. His face was still white though, except for the dark, wicked eyes. He was floating cross-legged in mid-air, holding tightly to the sticks.

"Ooooooooh!" he cackled, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Ickle firsties! What fun!"

He dive-bombed at the students, who were ducking out of the path of danger quickly.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!"

Peeves stuck out his tongue at him, but at least he obeyed and vanished. The walking sticks fell on Neville's head and the invisible ghost speeded away, kicking the coats of armour in passing.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," Percy said resignedly as he led them further into the castle. "The Bloody Baron is the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us Prefects. Here we are."

He had stopped at the end of the corridor, in front of a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink silk dress. She smiled as he approached and asked, "Password?"

"Caput Draconis," answered Percy. The lady gave a nod and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole in the wall. Hermione went in right after him and saw for the first time the Gryffindor common room, her home for the next seven years. She immediately knew that she would love it. The room was round and cosy, a fire crackling in the fireplace and lots of squashy armchairs standing everywhere. Percy directed her and the other girls through one of the doors, where a spiral staircase led them to their dormitory, another round room, this one much smaller than the common room, with three large four-posters in it. Their trunks already stood at the ends of the beds. Looking out of the only window, Hermione could see that they were in a tower, with another similar tower nearby probably holding the boy's dormitories. A huge wave of tiredness suddenly came over her. She put on her night gown and fell down on her bed, barely remembering to shut the deep-red velvet curtains before plunging into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

One hundred and forty-two staircases. Hermione only now realized what this bit of information from Hogwarts: A History really meant. Wide, sweeping staircases like the one from the entrance hall upwards. Narrow, steep staircases hidden behind curtains. Uneven staircases that one had to walk very carefully lest one tripped and fell down. Stairs that looked like they led upwards when really they led downwards. Steps that weren't solid that one had to jump or get caught in them, at the mercy of other students or teachers to get one out, hopefully before Peeves found one. The poltergeist seemed to enjoy nothing more than making fun of the new students and stalling them in their way to the classes. The other ghosts weren't very helpful either, except for Nick, who always gave directions to lost Gryffindors.

On her first morning, Hermione followed the Gryffindor prefects to the Great Hall for breakfast, not trusting herself to find the way she had walked sleepily the night before. She was right in doing so, for none of the landmarks she had memorized were to be found. Images contained other figures, suits of armour stood somewhere else. Doors that looked like doors from one side were merely panels in a wooden wall from the other and had to be asked politely to open, as there was no handle. At one point the small group had to take a completely different route because the staircase they had used the night before led to the forbidden corridor in daylight.

"It's not easy," Percy told her as they waited for a door to open (it had just woken up and was still sleepy, complaining about its aching joints). "Never rely on the suits, they walk around a bit. The picture frames stay were they are, but the inhabitants visit each other. At least the Fat Lady stays in her frame during the day, so you can always get into the common room. Oh, look, there's Mrs Norris."

A very thin cat with grey fur ran down the hallway, her eyes lamp-like and bulging. She cast a look at them and went on her way, apparently not interested in the prefects.

"She's Mr Filch's cat, sort of a second pair of eyes. She patrols the castle all the time, looking for rule-breakers. And when she finds one... it seems like she has some sort of connection to the caretaker. He always turns up when she finds something wrong." He shrugged. "That's what my brothers say, anyway. They had their share of run-ins with the two." Percy made a noise of disapproval. "Anyway, here we are."

They had reached the marble staircase to the entrance hall. Even this early there was already a good deal of noise coming out of the Great Hall. A seventh-year prefect turned to the first-years.

"You'll have to find your own way tomorrow, this is something we only do on the first morning. Well, have fun."

He gave them an encouraging smile and strolled away. Hermione and the other first-years who had accepted the prefects' offer to lead them to breakfast took their seats.

"Where are the other boys?" Lavender asked Neville.

"Sleeping, probably. Said something about not needing to be shepherded and that they won't get up that early."

"As if the few minutes would help them any," muttered Hermione.

"Well, it _was_ early," objected a yawning Parvati. "Don't know why the prefects had to go down already."

Dean and Seamus arrived about ten minutes later, wide grins on their faces.

"Told you we don't need shepherds," Seamus greeted them. He sat down and poured porridge into a bowl.

"Where's Harry?" Dean asked, sitting down opposite Seamus.

"Not here yet," answered Lavender. "Are they even out of bed?"

"Left before us. Must have gotten lost."

Harry's arrival was announced by sudden whispers among the students in the hall. He and Ron came over to the Gryffindor table quickly. They both looked very annoyed.

"Bloody stairs," Ron spat as they sat down. "I had the way right, only this staircase now leads somewhere else than yesterday. Guess where." His scowl turned into a grin.

Hermione knew the answer, but didn't say anything. How anyone could find this funny was beyond her. The others, however, didn't know.

"The forbidden corridor," said Harry. Parvati and Lavender let out identical gasps and Dean said, "Cool!"

"What's in there, then?" asked Seamus. Harry shrugged.

"No idea. There was a door and we tried to get through, but it was locked. Then Filch turned up. Asked what we were doing there, didn't believe we were simply lost. Nasty guy."

"And nasty cat," added Ron. "Did you notice how the two's eyes are the same?"

Hermione ate her breakfast in silence while the others ranted about the caretaker and his cat. Some second-years joined in, offering their experiences with the "dust ball", as they called Mrs Norris. She was therefore finished long before anyone else, but even then she didn't have anything to say. Not that the others had, really. It was their first day as much as hers, but they didn't seem to care as they happily chattered on.

Instead, Hermione took out _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ from her bag and started to re-read it. They had Herbology first thing in the morning and she didn't want to be unable to answer a question.

Just then, there was a great rush of wings. Over a hundred owls suddenly flew in through various holes near the roof, looking for the receivers of the letters and packages they bore, diving in to deliver them and then flying out. Just as suddenly as the owls had come, they were gone again.

In time they all got up and walked out of the castle and towards the greenhouses. Their classes at Hogwarts had started for real.

Most of them were all Hermione had hoped for, and more. The greenhouses were filled with dozens of plants she had never seen before. Professor Sprout was a dumpy, merry witch, handling the chaos in her classes without ever raising her voice beyond what was necessary to make herself heard. The chaos was always there, but she managed to teach despite it.

Professor Flitwick handled his Charms classes in a similar way. He was the tiniest man Hermione had ever seen, needing a stack of books to stand on so he could see above his table. In his first class Hermione noticed that not only the students were fascinated by Harry – when Professor Flitwick read Harry's name on the register, he toppled from his books in excitement. But he controlled himself after that and the classes were wonderful, with them practising basic wand movements and learning the theory of magic.

Nobody needed calming in History of Magic, though. Professor Binns, the only teaching ghost at Hogwarts, had a droning voice that seemed to put most of the students to sleep at once. Hermione had to admit that he _was_ boring, but she still couldn't understand how people would actually _sleep_ during class. Learning about goblin rebellions was interesting in itself and it was class after all.

Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, controlled her class with her mere presence. She waited until everyone was seated in their first lesson and then explained how she ran things.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she greatly impressed them all by turning her desk into a pig and back again. Hermione found herself wishing that she could already do that, but for now there were notes to take and theory to learn. Transfiguration greatly differed from other magic: there were less incantations, less complicated but more precise wand movements and a great deal more concentration. Hermione forced herself to relax when they all got matches which they were supposed to turn into needles. It was very hard. Only in the last few minutes she thought she had finally discovered how to work this kind of spells. On her last try the match had gone silver and pointy, though it was still made of wood. She looked around, somewhat disappointed, but found that all the other students were still frowning at their completely unchanged matches. Professor McGonagall came over to her table and showed the match to the whole class, which threw jealous looks at Hermione. But she didn't mind; Professor McGonagall had smiled at her. It was unusual enough for her stern face that Hermione felt like she had been praised in front of the whole school.

The good feeling didn't last long though. They were introduced to Professor Quirrell and Defence against the Dark Arts next. His classes were Hermione's biggest disappointment yet. Professor Quirrell and his entire classroom all reeked strongly of garlic and he actually looked ridiculous with his strange turban; according to him, it was a gift he got from an African prince he had helped in getting rid of a zombie. The students didn't quite believe him, though, as he seemed unable to tell the story of the fight. When Seamus asked him about it, he flushed and started stuttering even more than usual. It also seemed to be the turban where the strong smell that surrounded him came from.

Wednesday was the Astronomy night. They all climbed one of the highest towers in the castle from where they could observe the moon and the stars, recognize their constellations and learn their names.

On Friday, they finally had Potions for the first time. Professor Snape had his classroom in the dungeons of the castle; the dark and murky tunnels suited his appearance. He was tall and thin, with a large hooked nose and black, oily hair. He was dressed in black robes, too, which pointed out his sallow skin. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke to them, but they were absolutely quiet. Nobody wanted to draw attention; his presence would have kept them silent even if they hadn't been warned that Snape was very unfair and favoured the students of his own house, Slytherin. It was the Slytherins they had the class with and the reaction of the Gryffindors ranged from dread on Neville's part to anger from Ron.

The older students turned out to be completely right. Professor Snape read their names off the register and stopped at Harry's. He didn't seem excited at all, though.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter," he said ever so quietly. "Our new... _celebrity_."

Malfoy and his friends sniggered, but Snape ignored them and finished the register. Then he looked at the class, his cold, black eyes measuring them up and apparently not pleased with what they saw.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death... if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I'm not a dunderhead, Hermione thought. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, ready to start learning everything this man taught her, no matter how unpleasant he was. But he didn't seem ready yet.

"Potter!" he said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Magical Drafts and Potions, chapter seven, Sleeping Draughts. Hermione's hand shot in the air. Harry, on the other hand, looked completely stumped.

"I don't know, sir," he said.

Snape looked delighted in a twisted way. His lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut... fame clearly isn't everything.

"Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

He didn't even as much as glance at Hermione's hand. But she knew the answer again. Chapter 3, Common Ingredients for Advanced Potions. She stretched her hand as high as she could, waving it slightly to catch Snape's attention. But his eyes remained focused on Harry; he didn't even notice the Slytherins laughing behind his back. Or he chose not to notice – the rants of the older students came back to Hermione's mind.

"I don't know, sir," Harry had to admit yet again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

She had to give it to Harry, he was a true Gryffindor. He met the Potions master's eyes stare for stare, not blinking any more than Snape did. It also kept the professor's attention well away from Hermione's hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

None, Hermione wanted to shout. She stood up, her hand pointing straight upwards, her eyes fixed on Snape's back.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people dared to laugh. Snape's sneer fell away from his face and was replaced by anger.

"Sit down," he snapped at her. She did, very much taken aback.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Hermione already knew all that, but she knew better than to argue, it might even lose her house points. So she took her quill and started to write. Over the noise she heard the professor's voice: "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter."

She sighed inwardly. She couldn't really blame Harry for that point, but it still raked her. She wanted to win the cup.

Snape then sorted them into pairs and set them to work on an Amosil Potion, which was a very simple potion for curing boils. He wandered menacingly between the tables, criticising every single student except Draco Malfoy, whom he praised for the way he had boiled the horned slugs, when suddenly a large cloud of acid green smoke rose from Neville's and Seamus' cauldron with a loud, hissing sound. Then the cauldron collapsed, drenching Neville in the potion and leaking the rest of it to the floor, where it spread and burnt holes in people's shoes. Within seconds the whole class was standing on their chairs, except for Neville, who was whimpering in pain.

"Idiot boy!" Snape came over, gave his wand a wave and all signs of the accident vanished except for the boils on Neville's arms and legs. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville was unable to answer; the boils had spread to his face.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. And then – Hermione couldn't believe her eyes – he turned to Harry and Ron, who had been working at the next table.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth, probably to argue, but a kick from Ron made him close it again.

The lesson ended an hour later. Hermione's potion had been "not a total disaster", according to Snape, which she took to mean that it was as it should be.

Still, classes were, everything considered, highly enjoyable. Hermione wished she could say that for everything at Hogwarts.

When she got her letter, Hermione thought that she would finally find people like herself, people who wouldn't consider her a freak. She had found that to a degree: nobody was afraid of her because of her magic. Yet the other children weren't like her at all. They didn't read as much as she did, they didn't study as hard, they didn't pay as much attention in class. They considered her a freak for doing all these things. It had taken only three Herbology classes until she had been called know-it-all for the first time at Hogwarts. Lavender and Parvati had become fast friends immediately, but they had behaved so childishly that Hermione couldn't stand being near them too long. She regretted that now, but they wouldn't let her into their circle any more.

"Has the high lady decided to step down to us commons?" Parvati had asked when she sat down next to them one evening.

"Or is this just another rant about how we should do our homework sooner?" Lavender had added.

Hermione had stood up and gone to bed.

Seamus and Dean had taken to simply ignoring her. They were very good at it, too, to the point that they sometimes nearly ran into her.

Neville came to her when he needed help (he needed a lot of that, his forgetfulness seemed to extend to lessons), but otherwise kept to the other boys too. Hermione sometimes considered not helping him, but he was the only company she really had.

Harry and Ron were the worst though. Not only were they by far the laziest students of their year, they also took it worst when she reprimanded them about it. Harry was much like Seamus and Dean, ignoring her when he could and telling her to go away when he couldn't, but Ron was outright hostile. His eyes narrowed and his face set in a scowl whenever she got near them. He was never short of snappy remarks either.

"Why don't you do our homework if it means so much to you?"

"It's really none of your business if we're late for class."

"As if you cared if we don't learn enough, you only care about stupid house points."

It was especially bad because, for some reason she couldn't explain, she really wanted to be friends with the two. They were always laughing together, playing chess or Exploding Snap (a wizard's card game were the cards sometimes exploded) and generally having a good time. She never saw one without the other, either. She sat across the room in a corner she had taken as a near-permanent residence, watching them and not really being able to concentrate on her books. The library became her refuge, where she spent hours and hours just scanning book titles, looking for information that was suitable for a first-year. She then brought the books she chose back to the common room and again sat in the corner.

There was one obvious development in the two friends. The first few days they were always very late for breakfast, mostly due to getting lost in the castle. They adamantly refused to be shown the way though, especially by Hermione, even though she offered it more than once. Then, on the first Friday, they finally arrived on time. Over the next few weeks though, they took less and less time travelling the distance, to the point that they finally arrived in the Great Hall before Hermione did, even though they left the common room considerably later. She had asked them how they did it and had received an enigmatic smile from Harry and a "Why don't you look for the answer in a book?" from Ron.

Hermione found herself longing for classes, even Potions, so that she would be occupied and not have time to think about the other students. The days dragged on and more than once Hermione cried herself to sleep in the evenings. Ever so quietly, of course, lest Parvati and Lavender would complain about being kept awake.

She mentioned none of this in the letters to her parents, of course, keeping them carefully to what she learned in classes. She couldn't fool her parents, though, and the return letters sounded more and more concerned. Somehow it only made the situation worse.

A day Hermione wasn't keen on drew nearer. One morning a notice was posted on the message board: flying lessons would begin on Thursday. To make matters worse, they'd have the lessons together with Slytherin.

Every book she had read said the same thing: that you couldn't learn flying from books, that you had to go out and do it. She didn't like that one bit. She had been able to keep up with the children who had grown up in the wizarding world in the other classes, even outstrip them all, by reading and learning in her spare time. She wouldn't be able to do that now, and listening to the others she got the impression that flying was all young wizards ever did. Seamus and Ron loved to share their flying adventures, with themselves and with everyone else. Everybody talked about flying and Quidditch, even Lavender and Parvati.

Well, everyone but Neville. His grandmother had kept him away from broomsticks, undoubtedly fearing, with good reason, that he would injure himself. Neville was not only forgetful, he was also very clumsy. As a result, he was even more nervous about flying than Hermione was, little consolation that it was.

She woke with a cold lump in her stomach on Thursday morning. For a second she considered just staying in bed but quickly dismissed the thought. Staying away from class would lose her points and maybe even earn her a detention; besides, she needed to learn to fly after all. She sat up and pulled back the bed curtains. Parvati and Lavender were already up, chattering excitedly as they dressed.

"Padma had her first lesson yesterday," Parvati was just saying, "and she says the school brooms are terrible. They vibrate as you go higher and some don't even fly straight."

Hermione's heart sank from her stomach to her knees. How would she ever be able to stay on a broom that didn't hold still? She was going to fall off, somehow she knew it.

"Oh, look who's crawling out of her bed," Lavender exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you getting up later than us, what happened? Surely there must have been some terrible disaster to cause this."

Hermione didn't react. She was almost used to them making comments like that. Almost, except that she would never really get used to it. She dressed and left the dormitory for breakfast.

All of the boys were already there, Seamus and Ron in a heated discussion about broomsticks and the others listening. Dean and Harry were sharing uncertain glances from time to time; both were a bit nervous about flying. Neville simply looked terrified.

Hermione slid into a seat next to the boys, unnoticed as always except by Neville, who tried to smile but didn't quite succeed. She thought he might be sick any moment.

Talk turned from broomsticks to flying itself. Ron tried, without any success, to describe how to fly. In the end he gave up and just sighed, "Well, you'll just have to do it, you know. You can't explain it."

"But isn't there anything?" Neville wailed. He cast desperate looks around the table, his eyes resting even on Harry and Dean, who couldn't help him of course, and her. Well, she thought, there are a few tips I read.

"I read a book called Quidditch Through the Ages, it contained some tips for flying. It says the most important thing is to hold balance. You have to grip the handle tight, but relax otherwise."

One of the boys groaned as she continued to recite the book's tips. Neville was hanging on her lips though, and she was quite glad to have found an excuse not to eat anything. She was interrupted, however, by the arrival of the post owls. A barn owl headed straight for their group and dropped a small package in front of Neville. His earlier nervousness forgotten, he eagerly opened it and took out a strange, small glass ball filled with white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall," he explained. "Gran knows I forget things; this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red... oh..." His eyes stopped gleaming and his jaw froze: the smoke had gone scarlet and glowed in his hand. "... you've forgotten something..."

He screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to remember what he'd forgotten, when a hand snatched the Remembrall out of his. The hand belonged to Draco Malfoy, who was standing behind his seat, flanked, as always, by his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet at once, as if looking for a fight. Which would undoubtedly cost house points. Hermione was on the verge of telling them off when Professor McGonagall stepped up to them, summoned by her sixth sense for trouble.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Malfoy, realizing that he could do nothing with a professor looking, scowled and dropped the ball on the table. With a mumbled "Just looking," he walked away. Professor McGonagall threw a short look after him and returned to the staff table.

It was inconvenient that the practice was after lunch. While Hermione had forgotten her nervousness over the events at breakfast, by lunch it had fully returned. She ate a few bites, but mostly she just poked at the food with the fork. She didn't want to throw it all up later, so she better not eat it now.

At three-thirty they went out on the grounds together. Together meaning that Harry and Ron led the way, Dean and Seamus shortly behind, Neville trying to keep up, Lavender and Parvati following them all and Hermione at the very end, ignored and forgotten. The weather was very good, the sky clear and a light wind blowing. "Perfect flying conditions," as Seamus observed. They reached a smooth lawn where they found the Slytherins already waiting. About twenty brooms lay in the grass, arranged in straight lines.

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, arrived just after them. She had short, grey hair and staring, yellow eyes that reminded Hermione strongly of a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she called. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Hermione managed to secure herself a broom that didn't look too battered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"

"Up!" Hermione said. The broom rolled over and lay still again. She cast an uncertain glance around. Harry was holding his broom in his hand, looking very surprised. Malfoy held his broom too, but he looked more bored than anything else. Neville's broom hadn't moved a bit. Ron's broom jumped into his hand just as she was looking. Alright, she could do whatever Ron could do. Remembering the parchment of her Hogwarts letter, she concentrated on her broom.

"UP!" she shouted. The broom jumped in the air, but lost momentum before she could grab it. She concentrated again and made her voice hard and cold.

"UP!" she commanded. The broom sped upwards and into her hand. Only then did she realize that her command had been into total quiet. She looked around. Everyone already had their brooms in their hands, except Neville, who had apparently given up on making his broom come. Everyone looked at her.

"Very good, Miss Granger," Madam Hooch said. "You see, it's quite easy with enough command in your voice." Hermione wondered if that was why the teacher's voice was so hard.

"Now, mount your brooms. You should feel the cushioning charm on them. It's what makes the broom comfortable and it also provides a good part of the hold you have on your broom. If you don't feel the charm," Madam Hooch looked at Neville, "then you're sitting at the wrong place. More in the middle, Mr Longbottom." Neville shifted his broom. Hermione shifted hers a little, too. It really felt like there was a thick and comfortable cushion she was sitting on, but she didn't yet trust her weight to the broom. Madam Hooch was at the far end of the line, correcting Malfoy's position, something that seemed to delight Harry and Ron to no end. Especially since she didn't correct anything for either of them when it was their turn. She didn't correct much for Hermione either, only told her to relax. How she was to achieve that was another matter entirely.

Then Madam Hooch placed herself at one end of the line of students and gave her next instructions.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle. Three. Two.." She didn't get any further. Neville, sweating from nervousness, had already kicked off the ground and floated away.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville obviously wasn't in control of his broom. It flew straight upwards and all Neville could do was to look down at the ground with a very white face as he rapidly went higher. Suddenly, twenty foot in the air, he let out a gasp and lost his grip on the broom, slipping sideways off it.

Hermione screeched as Neville fell down heavily and landed with a thud on the ground.

"Everyone stand back!" Madam Hooch snapped and leant over him.

"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the students.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

She ushered a crying Neville away towards the castle. Hermione looked after them, her throat blocked. The same could happen to her on this broom. It would float away, completely uncontrollable. And Neville must have been really lucky only to break his wrist after that fall.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Hermione recognized Malfoy's drawling voice. How he managed the drawl even while laughing she couldn't imagine, but it made her anger rise. How dare he and the other Slytherins laugh at Neville? Obviously the other Gryffindors shared her views.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. She was a friend of Millicent Bulstrode, a hard-faced girl from Slytherin. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

Parvati looked as if she wanted to say something, but was interrupted.

"Look!" called Malfoy, snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He held up the Remembrall, the glass glittering in the bright sunlight.

"Give that here Malfoy."

Hermione looked in surprise at the speaker. It was Harry, but not looking like the usual Harry at all. He had a slight frown on his face, his lips were set in a tight line (a bit like Professor McGonagall, she thought) and his green eyes were fixed on Malfoy. He had spoken quietly, but with an aura of authority Hermione would have never thought possible from him. She knew in that moment that, would he direct such a command at her, she would obey. The class had gone silent, watching the confrontation.

Malfoy didn't have enough sense to recognize the danger though, or maybe he thought himself invincible. He sneered and shook his head slightly.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect... how about... up a tree?" He picked up his broomstick.

"Give it _here_!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy didn't listen. He mounted his broom and floated away, coming to a halt in mid-air, level with the topmost branches of a large oak. Hermione couldn't believe his complete disregard for rules. Well, he would get expelled and she wouldn't be sorry at all.

"Come and get it, Potter!"

No, surely Harry had more sense than that. Or not, she realized when Harry reached for his own broom. Malfoy was one thing, but Harry was Gryffindor.

"_No_!" she shouted. "Madam Hooch told us not to move! You'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. She wished she could summon up such authority as he previously had.

"You can't..." she started again but was held back by Ron.

"Shut up," he hissed at her. She watched desperately as Harry swung his leg over the broom and kicked off the ground. She wanted to tell him that he couldn't even fly, that he would fall off, but the words died on her tongue. He _could_ fly. For a moment he sat a little stiff, but she could see him visibly relax as he soared into the air, higher and higher. He leaned back on his broom, accelerating his ascent even more. Hermione screamed at that, the other girls gasped.

"Whoa, Harry!" Ron called. "Way to go. Knock that git off his broom." The last wasn't quite loud enough for Harry to hear.

Seamus, on the other hand, was staring at Harry in awe.

"He's a natural," he whispered again and again. "A natural, I tell you."

Hermione had read of such people. They were born with a feeling for flying, they simply did it. Apparently Harry was one of them.

In the meantime Harry had drawn level with Malfoy. He stopped rising and turned his broom towards Malfoy in one swift manoeuvre.

"Give it here," they heard him call, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Do it anyway," Ron whispered. Hermione groaned. Harry would get Gryffindor in so much trouble.

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy called back, but his voice definitely wasn't as steady as usual.

Harry suddenly leaned forward on his broom and shot towards Malfoy, who only got away just in time. Even before Malfoy had steadied his broom, Harry had turned around and looked ready for another attack. Dean, Seamus and Ron broke into applause. Lavender and Parvati were gripping each others hands tightly. Malfoys cronies took a step forward before they remembered that they couldn't reach him. Harry seemed to have noticed that too.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," he called.

"Catch it if you can, then!" Malfoy shouted. He threw the Remembrall into the air and dived towards the ground.

The glass ball made a wide arc through the sky and plummeted towards the ground. As did Harry. His broom handle almost vertical, he was streaking towards the ground, overtaking Malfoy, overtaking the Remembrall. Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth. He was going to crash, he was going to break his neck! He did none of these things. Just above the ground he levelled out, almost touching the grass with his toes. His path intersected that of the Remembrall. He stretched out his hand and caught the little glass sphere just before it crashed into the ground. His broom slowed down rapidly. Harry slid over the front end and toppled gently on the grass. As one, the students started to move forward.

"HARRY POTTER!"

That wasn't any of the students. They spun around. Faces went from red to ashen in a heartbeat. There was Professor McGonagall, running – running! – towards them, her face livid, her skin completely white.

"_Never_... in all my time at Hogwarts..." she spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence, "... how _dare_ you... might have broken your neck..."

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's _enough_, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

They watched helplessly as Professor McGonagall led Harry away. Malfoy had been safely on the ground when she had arrived and was now grinning widely.

Hermione turned away in disgust and instead looked at Ron. He would be devastated, she assumed, but instead he had the calculating look on his face she had only seen before when he had played chess in the common room, defeating everyone.

"Alright," he said once Professor McGonagall was out of earshot, "listen now. Nobody mentions anything of this to Madam Hooch."

The other Gryffindors protested immediately, saying that they couldn't let Malfoy get away with this. Ron shook his head violently.

"Look, McGonagall didn't say anything about expelling Harry" – he swallowed hard – "but Madam Hooch will if she knows. As it is, Harry might only get detention or something. I promise, if anything happens we will make Malfoy pay."

"Will you, now, Weasel?" Malfoy had come up behind him, flanked once again by Crabbe and Goyle. The Gryffindors, including Hermione, drew together behind Ron.

"Yes, we will," Ron shot back. "Very brave again, now that you've got your friends back, aren't you? Well, see how much we care."

Malfoy couldn't answer that. He gave Ron another sneer and turned away. Ron, his ears still red, watched him for a moment and then turned towards Hermione.

"I warn you, Miss Know-it-all," he hissed, "one word of this and you'll..."

"I wasn't going to..." she spluttered indignantly, but Ron didn't let her finish.

"Just a warning. All your books won't save you if I'm after you."

He turned away, leaving her standing with her mouth hanging open and a big lump threatening to block her throat. Luckily it didn't take long for Madam Hooch to return. True to Ron's plan, no one said a word about what happened during her absence, even though Malfoy kept shooting smirks at Ron which were returned with angry glares. Ron merely mentioned that Professor McGonagall took Harry away for "something, but she didn't tell us what." Madam Hooch accepted the explanation and continued the lesson.

They all learned to hover in this lesson, but there wasn't any time left for more. Hermione was glad for it. She returned straight to her dormitory and lay down on her bed, sobbing into her pillows. The look on Ron's face when he had turned towards her was unbearable. For some reason she couldn't begin to fathom, he seemed to absolutely despise her. She only wanted the best for them. She thought of all she had done in the past few weeks.

She tried and succeeded in not treating Harry as a celebrity. Whispers followed him everywhere he went and he was annoyed by it. She could read it in his face. So she treated him just like everybody else, helping him when he had questions (he never had any), reminding him of the rules when he was about to break them (he never appreciated it and broke them anyway), telling him to do his homework so that he wouldn't lose points. Ron, too, of course, as he always did exactly the same as Harry. He seemed quite flattered to be friends with the Boy who Lived, but that faded away as time went by.

Yet they avoided her, thought she would actively work against them. Life wasn't fair, she decided. She only wanted to be friends with them.


	8. Chapter 8

Anything that can go wrong, will.

- Murphy's Law

Hermione wanted to skip dinner, but after having eaten almost nothing for breakfast and lunch she was now so hungry that she couldn't. She stood up slowly and started her way down to the Great Hall. She didn't even get out of the Common Room before she was intercepted by Parvati and Lavender. She could tell from their faces that they had gossip to share – it was the only occasion on which they actually sought her out anyway.

"Have you heard?" Lavender asked in a conspirational tone.

"No, I haven't," Hermione said, hoping against hope that they would realize that she didn't want to either. She was hungry. It was futile of course.

"Harry's made Seeker," Parvati said. "Youngest in a century."

"Jenny says he was expelled, but don't believe her."

"We heard it from Isabella, she knows Oliver, so she has to know."

Hermione struggled to keep up with the information. Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, she reminded herself. The Seeker was one of the seven players in Quidditch. She knew the rules of Quidditch, of course. She had read them in _Quidditch Through the Ages_. There were seven players on each team. Three Chasers to try and score goals with the Quaffle, a large leather ball. One Keeper to protect the three goal hoops. Two Beaters who tried to keep the two Bludgers, small steel balls that hunted the players, away from their own team and beat them towards the enemy. One Seeker who tried to catch the elusive Golden Snitch, a tiny winged ball, whose capture was worth as much as fifteen goals and the only way to end the game.

But first-years weren't allowed on the Quidditch teams. They weren't even allowed their own brooms.

"He can't be, he's too young," she said.

"Special circumstances," Parvati said. "You saw him catch the Snitch... er... Remembrall, Hermione. This boy is a natural."

"The team needs him. We haven't won since Charlie Weasley was Seeker."

"McGonagall loves Quidditch, she hates losing."

"I'm sure she arranged for something."

Hermione decided it wasn't worth arguing.

"Sure," she said. "Thanks."

She left the Common Room, hoping she would get some undisturbed time.

Hope is not to be relied upon.

She entered the Great Hall to see Harry and Ron sitting at the table, both with huge grins on their faces. Maybe the rumour _was_ true, Hermione thought. She walked towards them when she saw Malfoy and his cronies approaching. She stopped far enough from Harry and Ron to avoid notice, but close enough that she still could hear everything.

"Having a last meal, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry retorted coolly. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. The Gryffindors looked unimpressed.

"I'd take you on any time on my own," Malfoy said. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

Hermione could read on Harry's face that he hadn't, but Ron saved him.

"Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy took a moment to decide.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked." He turned and left, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," Ron explained. Harry's eyes went wide and Ron added quickly, "but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

Hermione realized that they were actually going to do this. Sneaking out at midnight to duel. It was time to intervene. She stood up and approached them.

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Harry was just asking.

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose."

"Excuse me."

The boys looked up at her. Ron's face immediately took on the look of disgust she was now so familiar with.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron asked. Hermione felt her throat go tight. She deliberately addressed Harry alone.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron interrupted her.

"- and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

She hoped that appealing to Harry's respect for others would work, but it was a lost cause.

"And it's really none of your business," he said.

"Goodbye," Ron added.

Hermione walked towards the far end of the table and sat down. She was still hungry, but her appetite was gone. She ate very little, knowing that she would regret it later. Her mind was occupied with Harry. She had to find a way to keep him from doing something so stupid. He was already in deep trouble, any more and he would probably get expelled if he was the best Seeker on the planet.

"Anything troubling you, Hermione?"

It was Percy. Hermione thought hard. If she told Percy about the duel he would put a stop to it. He would keep Harry and Ron out of trouble, probably with no consequences. He was a prefect, he had the authority. He also was Ron's brother.

But if she told Percy, Harry and Ron would hate her forever.

"No, nothing," she said, giving him a weak smile. "Just tired, you know, first flying lesson."

It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either. She was tired. Yet she knew that she had to stay awake to keep the boys from going out. If they were really going out; she still had hopes that they would be too smart.

It wasn't a day for hopes, though.

Hermione had gone to bed and waited for Lavender and Parvati to fall asleep, then pulled on her dressing-gown and gone back to the empty common room. She had turned a chair so that she could see the portrait hole but was invisible from the stair to the boys' dorms. Then she had waited.

Sure enough, at half past eleven she heard feet coming down the stairs. Harry and Ron went past her chair without noticing her. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment.

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry," she said, pointing her wand at one of the lamps in the common room to light it. The boys, both in their dressing-gowns and holding their wands, whirled around.

"You!" hissed Ron. "Go back to bed!"

Hermione, however, was not going to be ordered around by Ron.

"I almost told your brother," she snapped at him. "Percy – he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Ron looked about to say something back, but Harry stopped him.

"Come on," he said and left the Common Room.

Hermione couldn't let them simply ignore her this time, though. She crept after them, keeping her voice low as to not attract attention.

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor, do you _only_ care about yourselves, _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away," Harry simply said. She had finally to concede defeat. It was, after all, their own problem.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

She had turned back to the portrait as she spoke, but the Fat Lady wasn't there. She was probably visiting some other portrait, but where ever she was, it meant that Hermione was locked out of the Gryffindor Tower. Panic flooded her.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked.

"That's your problem," Ron said lightly. "We've got to go, we're going to be late." They walked off down the corridor.

Hermione thought quickly. If she was caught here, she couldn't really explain what she was doing outside, but if she was with the two, they could back her up. She ran after them.

"I'm coming with you," she declared when she caught up.

"You are _not_," Ron said furiously.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you and you can back me up."

"You have some nerve -" said Ron, his voice rising.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry interjected. "I heard something."

The fell silent. Hermione heard some sort of snuffling.

"Mrs Norris?" breathed Ron.

They were lucky. It wasn't Mrs Norris, but Neville, sleeping on the floor. He woke as they drew nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," Hermione said quietly. "The new password's 'Pig Snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"Fine." Neville held up his arm, which showed no sign of injury whatsoever. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"

"Don't leave me!" Neville pleaded, standing up. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and the glared at Neville and Hermione.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that it was his fault she was along in the first place, but Harry shut her up and motioned them to come along.

They followed him through long corridors, taking a path that Hermione didn't know, making her lose any sense of where she was quickly. The corridors looked very different at night, lit only by the moon shining through the high windows. Every shadow looked like Mrs Norris, every noise sounded like Mr Filch. Finally they reached the trophy room on the third floor.

It looked spooky. Various trophies of all kinds lined the walls, reflecting the little light that hit them. They kept to the walls and Harry took his wand out.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered in front of Hermione.

Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. Maybe Malfoy simply had tipped off Filch that someone would be here. It would be like him.

A noise in the next room made them jump. Then they heard Filch's voice, confirming Hermione's suspicions.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Harry waved them frantically back to the door they had entered through. They had barely left the room when Filch came in, muttering.

"They're in here somewhere, probably hiding."

Harry led them down a long gallery of suits of armour, with Filch drawing constantly nearer. A rat suddenly crossed their path, scurrying in between Ron and Hermione. She suppressed a scream, but Neville behind her didn't manage. He let out a squeak and started running, only to trip after a few steps and fall into Ron, carrying them both into a suit of armour.

The noise was terrible. The time for stealth was over.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and run they did. Hermione only hoped Harry knew where he was going. He seemed to know a lot of the secret passages Hermione had heard of, for when they ran right through a tapestry and along a short corridor, they found themselves near the Charms classroom, a far longer way from the Trophy Room than they had run.

They stopped, unable to run any longer. Hermione had a terrible stitch in her chest. Neville was bent double, he had been dragged along by Ron more than running himself for the last minute. Harry was leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead.

"I think we've lost him," he panted.

"I – _told_ – you," Hermione managed to say. "I – told – you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible." He seemed to be in the best shape of all of them.

Hermione had found some breath.

"Malfoy tricked you," she told Harry. "You realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the Trophy Room. Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Harry didn't answer her, but instead said, "let's go."

At least they would be safe back in Gryffindor.

Except that it was _that_ day.

A doorknob rattled and Peeves shot out of a classroom. He squealed in delight when he saw them.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out," Harry pleaded.

Peeves laughed evilly.

"Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," Peeves said, trying and failing to imitate an angel. "It's for your own good, you know."

At that, Ron's temper got the best of him.

"Get out of the way," he snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves cried. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Once more they started running, but their flight ended soon when they reached the end of the corridor and slammed into a locked door.

"This is it!" Ron moaned. "We're done for! This is the end!"

Harry rattled uselessly at the doorknob. They could hear Filch approaching.

It was time for desperate measures. Useful charm indeed, Hermione thought as she snatched Harry's wand out of his hand.

"Oh, move over," she snarled, then tapped the lock and whispered, "Alohomora!"

Her training paid off; the door opened with a faint click. They scrambled through and shut the door. Then they listened.

"Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess me about, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves sang.

"All right – please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"

Peeves flew away as loudly as he could and left Filch cursing.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – get off, Neville!"

Hermione noticed that Neville was tugging on Harry's sleeve.

"What?"

It really wasn't a good night.

They all turned around – and looked into the eyes of a creature straight from their nightmares. It was a gigantic three-headed dog. It was so large that it completely filled the corridor – the forbidden corridor, Hermione noticed, no wonder it was forbidden – its heads brushing the ceiling, its feet standing on what Hermione identified as a trapdoor.

The dog started to growl, a triple-throated, thundering growl that made Hermione's blood freeze. Too terrified to even scream, they all backed against the door. Someone turned the knob and they all fell backwards, out of the corridor. Harry slammed the door shut and they ran yet again. This time they didn't stop until they reached the Fat Lady. Luckily she was back in her frame.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked.

"Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout," Harry managed to say. The portrait swung open and they scrambled into the Common Room. There they collapsed into armchairs.

It took a while for them to catch their breath again and wipe their sweaty faces. Ron was the first to speak.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?"

Hermione's terror had faded, and her temper rose.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she said angrily. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry said stupidly. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up and looked at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

She turned around stalked up the stairs to her dormitory. She resisted the urge to slam the door and crept in her bed. She was so angry that she couldn't sleep for a long time.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamt that she was sitting in the corner of a tiny room, terrified. Mere inches from her face was one of the three heads of the dog, its yellow teeth bared, its saliva dropping on her robes. The dog was held back only by thin leash, held by Ron, who was laughing at her.

When she woke up in the morning she resolved never to speak with the two again.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione's resolve lasted all of a week. Harry and Ron didn't seem put off by their rule breaking at all. Instead they saw it as a great adventure and seemed to be hoping for another one. They didn't seem to mind her not speaking to them either, in fact they looked really happy about it. Hermione didn't know if that was worse or that she now felt even more alone.

A week after meeting the dog, a large, thin parcel arrived with the morning post. It was carried by six large screech owls and everyone looked up to see who it was addressed to. To everyone's amazement the owls dropped it right in front of Harry, thoroughly messing up the breakfast table in the process. A seventh owl then dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Hermione watched as Harry ripped the letter open and his face lit up. He passed the letter to Ron, whose jaw dropped. He whispered something to Harry and they both stood up and left the hall. Hermione stuffed the rest of her toast in her mouth and followed them.

Outside she saw Harry and Ron facing off Malfoy and his thugs, but Professor Flitwick was already there.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" she heard him say.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly. So it was true, Harry was indeed Seeker.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir."

Hermione remembered her day in Diagon Alley. It was one of the newest, and probably best, broomsticks there were.

"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," Harry added. Malfoy looked outraged.

They made their way upstairs, trying not to laugh. Hermione followed them closely, furious with the two of them.

"Well, it's true," Harry was just saying. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be in the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" Hermione said angrily, eyeing the package.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" was all Harry said.

"Yes, don't stop now," Ron added, looking like he had just received the worst disappointment of his life, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione renewed her vow not to speak to them and walked past them to the History classroom. They arrived not long after her; apparently they had only dropped the package in the dormitory.

Life at Hogwarts had reached an all-time low. Hermione's house mates seemed to interpret the short fight on the stairs to mean that she actually didn't want Gryffindor to have a good Quidditch team and shunned her completely. Even Percy stopped actually approaching her. Nobody wanted to sit next to her in classes, except Neville in Potions.

Hermione's birthday came and went, but nobody cared or knew, except for her parents, who sent her a thick novel. She put it aside without even properly looking at it. The Hogwarts library contained more books than she could ever read, but it wasn't books she really wanted.

Classes got more interesting as they learned more advanced magic, but she couldn't properly enjoy them any more. Whenever she looked up from what she was doing she was guaranteed to see at least one other student glaring at her. They didn't even mind that she noticed.

On Hallowe'en morning she awoke to the smell of baking pumpkin drifting through the castle. She felt like staying in bed, it only reminded her that this evening there was the Hallowe'en feast, another opportunity for her to sit alone in a hall full of merry people.

At least Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that they would finally do the Levitation spell, which she wanted to learn since the Head Boy had flown her trunk into the train on her journey to Hogwarts.

Her good mood was immediately spoiled when Professor Flitwick put them into pairs to practice and partnered her with Ron, of all people. He glared hard at her as he walked over to her desk, and she glared right back. Neither of them said a word.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" lectured Professor Flitwick from the top of his book stack. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

"You go first," Hermione told Ron.

Ron cleared his throat and pointed his wand at his feather. He made a wide sweeping movement with his arm and brought it down to point at the feather again and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

But it sounded wrong, not at all like what Richard had said. The "gar" was too short, the "sa" too sharp. The wand movement was not even close to the simple swish and flick that originated in the wrist.

Consequently, the feather was no more impressed by Ron's spell than Hermione. Ron tried twice more before Hermione interrupted him.

"You're saying it wrong," she told him. "It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

Ron wasn't grateful for her help at all. Instead he snarled, "you do it then, if you're so clever."

She gave him a scathing look and rolled up her sleeves, then took her wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she said while giving the wand the swish and flick that kept her elbow completely still. Sure enough, the feather rose up in the air and hovered over their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Everyone looked first at the feather, then at Hermione. The looks weren't friendly, though.

Hermione stopped concentrating and the feather floated back on their table.

Ron tried. And tried again. And again. Hermione kept correcting him, because even though he told her to shut up every time she said something, he still followed her advice. By the end of the lesson his ears were very red, but at least he managed to get his feather in the air for a few moments, though he was far too angry to hold his concentration any longer.

When Professor Flitwick dismissed them Ron rejoined Harry as fast as he could. He immediately launched into a tirade about how terrible she, Hermione, was. She was walking only a few steps behind them and caught every word. But it was the end that hurt her most.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he ranted. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Eight weeks at Hogwarts came crashing down on her. Eight weeks of misery, with no one to go to and only rare sobs in the evenings to relieve her. Eight weeks of loneliness, of being ignored, of being hissed at. Eight weeks of one constant nightmare she had given up hope of waking up from. Eight weeks of tears filled her eyes, eight weeks of sobs her throat. She did the only thing she could: she ran, not even caring that she bumped hard into Harry as she squeezed past him. She ran without any idea of where she was heading. She ran from her tormentors, yet she knew that she couldn't outrun them. She couldn't hide forever.

She caught sight of a door. The girls lavatories. One place at least where the boys couldn't follow her. She ran inside and locked herself in a cubicle. Only then did she really start to cry. She never noticed herself collapsing on the floor.

Her tears had long since run dry. Her breath didn't suffice for more than a few sobs. Her knees couldn't hold her weight. She lay on the floor, her throat hurting, her eyes swollen, her face itching from dried tears. Yet she couldn't go back. She could never, ever go back.

Parvati had come in at one point. She had said something to her. Hermione couldn't remember what it was. She had shouted that she wanted to be left alone. It wasn't as if anybody really cared about her. Nobody had come when she hadn't been at lunch. Nobody had come when she had missed all her afternoon classes. Only when the Hallowe'en feast drew nearer had Parvati ventured into the toilet. No, she didn't need any of them.

It had grown dark. They probably were having fun down in the Great Hall right now. Eating their feast. Hermione's stomach rumbled. Laughing and talking. More tears flowed down her cheeks. Who knows what else. She had read that sometimes the ghosts did some performance at Hallowe'en. She heard faint cries that could have been cheering.

She wouldn't go down. They would laugh at her. If she was lucky, they would ignore her. But that wasn't the reason. She didn't want to go there, really. Stupid feast. Stupid people. Books were far better than people. Books didn't insult you. They didn't ignore you.

Hermione thought for a moment. If everybody was at the feast, she could go to the Common Room. She could go to bed and be asleep before anybody else came. She made up her mind. She left the cubicle.

The door opened. Another student was going to see her. She immediately retreated to the far end of the room, hidden by the cubicles from anybody standing in the doorway.

Something was wrong. Hermione knew it immediately. The door to the toilets had opened, but no inquisitive voice was to be heard. Then she smelled it. A foul smell. An unclean smell. As if the toilet she was in hadn't been cleaned in years. A heavy footstep could be heard. Another one. Hermione froze. Whatever it was, it was coming in. Did it know she was here? She peered around the corner. What she saw made her heart skip. It was a huge creature. Short, thick legs ended in flat, horny feet. A fat body was topped by a tiny head with long ears. Long arms hung at either side of the body. One held a huge club. Hermione recognized the creature from one of her books. It was a mountain troll. Twelve feet high. Vicious creatures, except for the few that could be trained. Strong, very strong.

Stupid. If only she could find a way to get past it, to the door. The creature grunted, as if unsure what to do next. Maybe it would just go away. If she kept very still, it might not notice her. She noticed that her hands were shaking very hard. She willed them to stop, but they didn't. She stood there, afraid that the slightest noise would give her away.

The troll turned. It would go away. It would leave. She was safe! She was -

The door slammed shut. The key turned. A muffled shout could be heard.

She was doomed.

She screamed. It was a scream of pure terror. A scream she had absolutely no control over. It echoed from the walls. It echoed in her mind, as if it wasn't her screaming. She screamed on when she had no breath left, the noise gone but not the action.

The troll whipped around. It saw her. Its eyes narrowed. Its nose wrinkled. Its teeth bared. It roared. Hermione shrunk against the far wall. She stared at the creature that was now advancing on her. It was knocking the sinks off the wall. She stared at its face. It came closer. She was going to die. It gripped the handle of its club tighter. She was going to die. The door banged open and two figures came in. It didn't matter. She was going to die. One figure shouted something. The troll was mere feet from her. She was going to die. She stared at it. There was nothing else to do.

The troll stopped. It turned around. It walked towards one of the figures. It lifted its club. Hermione looked at the figure.

Harry?

"Oy, Pea-brain!" a voice called from the other side of the chamber. Something hit the troll on the shoulder. It stopped yet again. Hermione's eyes darted to the other figure.

Ron?

That was impossible. Ron had laughed at her as he had held the chain of the dog. Ron hated her. Ron would love to see her die.

Someone tugged at her arm. Shouts washed around her. Something in the back of her mind told her that the shouts were directed at her. She didn't care. She would die. Harry and Ron couldn't defeat a troll. If they even wanted to. She kept staring at the troll. It roared again and went after Ron.

Suddenly Harry was hanging around the neck of the troll. His wand was sticking in the troll's nose. The troll howled. It shook itself. It grabbed with its arms after Harry. It tried to hit him with its club. Hermione's knees gave way. Any moment Harry would die, and then Ron, and then her. The troll raised its club again.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The spell echoed in the back of her head. She was near death then, the replay of her life had already reached her last ever morning.

She began to hallucinate. She saw the club being ripped out of the troll's hand. It rose higher and higher, until it lost momentum, tipped over and crashed down again, directly on the head of the troll. The trolled swayed. For a moment it seemed it would stay upright, but then it tipped over and fell with a thundering crash to the floor. If only it was that easy. Hermione closed her eyes. Any moment the troll would kill her.

A moment passed. Another moment passed. Nothing happened. Hermione opened her eyes again. The troll was lying on the floor. Harry was standing up slowly. She blinked. The troll was lying on the floor. She blinked again. The troll was lying on the floor. She slowly moved one trembling hand to the other and pinched herself hard. The troll was lying on the floor.

She opened her mouth, but no noise came out. She tried again.

"Is it – dead?" she said.

"I don't think so," came Harry's shaking voice. "I think it's just been knocked out."

She looked at him. He was looking at his wand. Only it didn't look like a wand at all, rather, it looked like grey lumps on a stick.

"Urgh – troll bogies."

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes as he bent down and wiped his wand on the troll's trousers.

The door flew open once more and Hermione jumped hard. She relaxed a tiny little bit when Professor McGonagall came in, followed by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. The Defence teacher gave a yelp at the sight of the troll and sat down, clutching his heart. The Potions master bent to examine the troll. But Hermione's attention was focused on the Transfiguration teacher. Her lips white from being pressed together, her eyes flashing, she stared at Harry and Ron, but didn't seem to notice Hermione. Harry stood with his hands hanging, anxiety big in his face. Ron stood like a statue, his wand raised and pointed where the troll had previously stood. Only Ron's head was turned towards the professors. His wand raised – _he_ had cast the spell?

Hermione slowly got to her feet. Her knees where still weak, but at least they supported her.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall said to the boys. Anger emphasized every syllable. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

And then it hit Hermione. They were going to be punished. They must have known about the troll; they had been sent to the dormitories. Yet they had come, come to warn her. They had risked their own lives to save hers, and they were going to be punished for it. She knew she couldn't let that happen, no matter the consequences. She might get expelled for it, but if she could spare them the same fate it would be worth it.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

She had spoken the words without even forming them first, as was her habit.

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall seemed surprised to see her.

"I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own -" What was she saying? She was lying to a teacher! She was lying to Professor McGonagall! "You know, because I've read all about them." What nonsense was she babbling?

She heard more than saw Ron's wand falling to the floor. Hermione's tongue continued on its own accord, without ever consulting her brain.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Professor McGonagall's eyes darted between her and the two boys, who did their best at trying not to look surprised.

"Well – in that case ..." the professor said, looking very confused. Then her eyes locked on Hermione.

"Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione dropped her eyes and hung her head. There was no way to answer that. She wouldn't ever think of doing such a thing.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left. She walked back to Gryffindor in a trance, her mind trying to catch up with the day's events. She had run off because Ron had been so hateful. Then Harry and Ron had come back to save her. Why? her mind screamed. She didn't know. Professor McGonagall had taken five points from her. Far less than she expected. She had said that she was very disappointed in Hermione. That hurt. But she could make up for that. There was something else, a simple thought that she needed to catch, but it eluded her.

"Pig Snout," she said absent-mindedly as she reached the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open and she climbed through the hole into the Gryffindor tower. Nobody noticed her, they were too busy with the feast. Hermione saw mountains of food on one table. People went there to get food, then returned to the group they were sitting with. Hermione's stomach grumbled again, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. But she couldn't join the feast. Not yet. She had to do something first.

The portrait opened again and a black head came through the hole. It was followed by the rest of Harry and then Ron. They noticed her standing there and came up. They all stood still for a moment. Hermione wanted to look into their eyes, but found that she couldn't.

"Thanks," she mumbled, staring at the floor. To her surprise, she heard the boys say the same thing at the same time.

Then they went to get plates. Hermione loaded food on hers and retreated to her corner. She was surprised to see the boys join her shortly. They sat in silence, eating and drinking and not looking at each other. Hermione broke the silence only once.

"What happened – afterwards?" she asked.

"McGonagall gave each of us five points," Harry answered. Her mood lightened. In sum, nothing was lost.

"And she said that Dumbledore would hear of it," Ron added. That was no surprise either. Hermione nodded.

As the adrenaline began to ebb away, Hermione started to feel very tired. She mumbled a "Good night" and went to bed.

As she lay there, the elusive thought from before suddenly fluttered into her mind clearly visible.

There were more important things than points.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione awoke the next morning with a slight headache. She had had a terrible dream, only it wasn't terrible. Not in the end. There had been a troll, but then Harry and Ron had come and saved her.

She sat up slowly. What time was it? It had to be late; the curtains of her bed glowed from the sunlight shining on them. Hermione had worked out that she could use this fact like a sundial. It had to be about eleven o'clock.

She jumped up in panic, fully awake now. She would be late for classes. Only when she realized that it was the day after Hallowe'en did she calm down again. No classes today. To recover from the feast or something like that.

The feast. She hadn't been there, had she? No, she had been crying in a bathroom. And then...

The troll. It had been real, not a dream. And if the troll had been real, so had the other part. What did that mean?

She kept thinking about Harry and Ron as she slowly got ready for the day and made her way downstairs to the Common Room.

"Finally! We thought you'd never show up."

It was Ron. He and Harry were about to leave the room through the portrait hole, but had stopped when they saw her.

"Well, come on," Harry said. "Breakfast is only for a few more minutes, we have to hurry."

Hermione looked at her watch. There was no way they could still reach the Great Hall in time, and she said so.

Ron chuckled.

"So says the girl who knows everything. Come on," he said, walking over to her and grabbing her wrist. "We're about to show you something you can't learn in books. Now hurry."

He hurried back to the exit, dragging her behind him. Harry had already climbed through.

Outside, they turned in the wrong direction. Hermione struggled against Ron's hand, but he had a death grip on her.

"Do I have to carry you?" he asked in annoyance. "Stop struggling and come on."

He ran after Harry, who was already halfway down the corridor. Hermione had a hard time keeping up.

"Where are you going?" she cried. They didn't answer, but Harry suddenly stopped next to a tapestry. He threw quick glances up and down the corridor, then lifted it up and jumped into a hole in the wall behind it.

They reached the tapestry. Ron lifted it up and pulled her closer.

"Look, you have to jump down here. I'll go first and catch you. Don't worry."

He jumped. Hermione heard his feet land after a split second. She fervently hoped they knew what they were doing and jumped after them. Her fall was slowed by Ron moments before she touched the ground.

"Great. Come on," Ron just said and set off again. They ran along a narrow, wrinkled path and emerged through a door into a corridor that Hermione recognized to lead directly to the marble staircase.

"How..." she started but was cut off by Harry, who had been waiting for them.

"Later," he said. "We don't have enough time now."

The reached the Great Hall just in time to load their plates before breakfast disappeared. Only then did Hermione notice how many eyes stared at the three of them. But her attention soon returned to the two boys sitting with her.

"How did you discover this way?" she asked. She had read about the secret passages of course. Apparently the castle was full of them, shortcuts between distant places in the castle that could be found by those who knew where to look. Those ways had to be how Harry and Ron managed to be in the hall earlier than her even when she left the Common Room first.

"This one?" Harry asked. "By accident. Ron leaned against the tapestry and nearly fell through. But we only use it in emergencies."

"Do you mean you know others too?"

"Lots," Ron said smugly. "Very useful, they are."

"How come the prefects don't know about them?"

Ron snorted.

"Can you imagine Percy walking the corridors in the evenings, tapping every tapestry, every odd stone in the walls?"

Hermione shook her head. She really couldn't imagine it.

They ate in silence for a while. Then Hermione asked the question that lay on her mind the heaviest.

"Why did you come? Yesterday, I mean?"

The boys looked at each other uncomfortably. It was Harry who spoke first.

"In the middle of the feast, Quirrell suddenly burst into the hall. Screamed something about a troll in the dungeons and collapsed."

"Calls himself a Defence teacher," Ron mumbled.

"Anyway, Dumbledore ordered the students back to their houses, so the prefects led us out."

He hesitated, and Ron's ears went very red.

"Halfway there," Harry continued, "we remembered that you didn't know about the troll, so we sneaked away and came to warn you. Parvati had told us where you were."

"Had to evade Snape on the way. No idea why he wasn't searching the dungeons with the others."

"So, then we came across the troll. We hid and it went into a room, so we decided to lock it in. Only, well, you were in the room."

Harry now looked very uncomfortable. His face was burning.

"When we heard your scream," Ron said, "we went back to the room and, well, you know the rest."

He stared at his empty plate.

"Look," he said suddenly, "what I said yesterday, well, I was angry. You're not that bad. You're just..." He trailed off.

Hermione said nothing. She hoped he would continue, tell her what she was so that she could change it. He didn't.

"Friends?" he said, holding out his hand.

Hermione broke into a wide smile.

"Friends," she said, clasping the hand with her own.

"Friends," Harry added, putting his hand on top of theirs.

"Fizzing Whizbees."

Hermione watched as the stone gargoyle jumped aside when Professor McGonagall gave the password. The opening revealed a circular staircase that was moving constantly upwards, like an escalator.

"The headmaster will be waiting for you, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor."

Hermione stepped on a stair and waited as it carried her upwards into a high tower. Reaching the top, she stepped off again and knocked at the door. It opened on its own and she entered the headmaster's office.

It felt very much like entering a museum. The walls were full with portraits of many wizards and witches who all turned to look at her as she scanned them. Countless small tables with very thin but beautifully ornamented legs stood around the room. On the tables were delicate magical instruments Hermione had never heard of before. The floor was made of wood panels, placed to form a maze of unbelievable complexity and enchanting beauty. The ceiling, high up in the air, was painted like some churches she had seen, to make it seem like she was looking at a tower hundreds of feet high and reaching directly into the clouds. Because the paint was magical, though, it looked far more believable. In an edge of the office stood a perch that looked like it was supposed to hold a large parrot, but no bird was anywhere in sight.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," as soft voice spoke.

Hermione jumped and blushed heavily. She had completely overlooked the old wizard sitting behind the large, claw-footed desk, who was now looking at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, uncertain what else to say.

"Please have a seat." He pointed to a chair that stood in front of his desk. Hermione sat down slowly, getting slightly anxious.

"Professor McGonagall told me about what happened yesterday," the headmaster said.

"I was stupid -" Hermione started, determined to hold up her story from the previous evening, but a raised hand forestalled her.

"Miss Granger, I know you weren't at the feast. I also know why. This is not why I asked to see you."

He paused, looking into her eyes.

"Do you know, Miss Granger, what a Life Debt is?"

There was no way to miss the capitalization in his words. Hermione nodded.

"When a wizard saves another wizard's life under certain circumstances, a bond is created between them. I don't know what the bond exactly means, sir."

"That's because every bond is different. Every wizard finds a different way of repaying the debt."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"I believe that the special circumstances were given yesterday evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened. Did that mean she had a Life Debt to Harry and Ron?

"It's hard to say what is necessary to repay the debt. In your case I believe that just being a good friend to them will be enough."

Hermione smiled for the first time since she had entered the office.

"I plan to do that regardless, sir, Life Debt or not."

The headmaster smiled and she could see his eyes twinkling.

"I was hoping you would say that, Miss Granger. Harry will need every friend he can get. You may go."

"Thank you, sir."

Hermione stood up, her mind racing. What was that supposed to mean? She had nearly reached the door when the headmaster called again.

"Oh, and Miss Granger."

She turned.

"Yes, sir?"

"There is no need to tell Mister Potter or Mister Weasley about this conversation."

"Yes, sir."

There was nothing else to say.

Having friends was just as wonderful as Hermione had always imagined it. They spent all their time together, in classes and during free time, talking, learning (Hermione had to bully them a bit to make them do it, but for once they gave in every now and then) or playing games like Exploding Snap.

Of course the boys sought to make use of her school work. But while she readily helped them when they didn't know something, she put her foot down when they wanted to copy their homework from her. They had to do it on their own, how else would they learn? She did, however, correct their homework when they were done. Harry needed the help more, with the first Quidditch match coming nearer he was at practice four or five times a week; it was a wonder he managed to get anything done.

Aside from secret shortcuts the boys had another story to share. Harry had been to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, the gamekeeper. When they retrieved the money from Harry's parents' vault at Gringotts, Hagrid had also retrieved some very secret package for Professor Dumbledore. They had also found out that the very same day somebody tried to steal something from Gringotts, probably this very package. They suspected that the package, whatever it was, was now beneath the trapdoor guarded by the three-headed dog.

The weather had turned very cold. The lake had frozen over and the trees and ground were white from frost every morning. It was the last day before Harry's first Quidditch game on Saturday and they were in the courtyard. Hermione had conjured a large Bluebell fire, a magical, waterproof, blue fire that could be carried around in a jar. Harry was reading Quidditch Through the Ages, which she had lent him. He liked the book a lot and had soon memorized most of it. Hermione sighed. If the two boys only applied themselves as much to their school work as to Quidditch, they'd easily be at the top of the class. However, they didn't and she couldn't change it.

"Snape!" whispered Ron suddenly.

Professor Snape was indeed crossing the yard, walking with a very noticeable limp. They immediately moved close together, shielding the fire from view. It wasn't really disallowed, but Professor Snape would find a way to take points from them, probably by applying the school hazard rules. He seemed to absolutely loathe Harry, and Ron and Hermione too, by extension.

Unfortunately their shuffling caught his attention. He turned his stride towards them and came a halt in front of them. He couldn't see the fire, but he spotted the book Harry was holding at his side.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

Harry held the book up.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said with satisfaction. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

His job done, he limped away.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered darkly. Hermione knew better: library books indeed weren't to be taken outside school, but they weren't outside school. The distinction was pointless though.

"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," Ron answered bitterly.

In the evening they sat in the Common Room. Hermione was checking Harry's and Ron's Charms homework, Ron was practising a spell and Harry was staring out of the nearby window. He was nervous, Hermione knew. For a while he had tried the same spell as Ron, but had quickly given up.

"I'm going to ask Snape for the book," he suddenly announced, standing up.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then at him.

"Better you than me," they said at the same time. Harry left.

He wasn't gone long. He almost jumped through the portrait hole coming back in, and his eyes practically screamed that something had unsettled him greatly.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as soon as Harry was near. "What's the matter?"

Harry kept his voice very quiet.

"I saw Snape in the staff room with Filch. His leg looked really bad, all bloody. He was complaining how hard it was to watch out for all three heads at once. Then he saw me. How he looked at me... well, I just ran back here fast as I could.

"Do you know what this means? He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en! That's where he was going when we saw him – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick _he_ let that troll in, to create a diversion!"

Hermione stared at him. A teacher, steal something Professor Dumbledore wanted guarded?

"No – he wouldn't," she objected. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron snapped at her. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Unable to come up with an answer, they went to bed soon after that. Hermione was thinking about what Ron had said. Professor Snape was a teacher. But then, he hated Harry and was generally very unfair and non-supporting, not like a teacher should behave at all. But no, he had to have some decency, otherwise Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let him teach.

With that thought, she fell asleep.

She woke early, the sun being in a seven o'clock-position. It promised to be a beautiful if cold day, perfect for Quidditch, as Parvati was quick to point out.

Hermione went down to find Harry already up and sitting in Hermione's old corner, looking slightly pale. Ron came down the stairs just as she had reached Harry. Together they convinced Harry to go down to breakfast. Yet even the wonderful sausages couldn't tempt Harry, he flatly refused to eat anything, despite Hermione's concerns. Even Seamus encouraged him to eat, if not in a very tactful way.

At nine, Harry left for the changing rooms. Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors rushed back upstairs to put the finishing touches on their surprise for Harry. They had taken one of the sheets Scabbers, Ron's rat, had destroyed and made a large banner out of it. Potter for President, it said. Dean, who drew very well, placed the finishing touches to the Gryffindor lion he had drawn. Then it was Hermione's turn. She enchanted the banner so that the colours changed and sparkled.

It was a sign of Harry's popularity that, now that Hermione was friends with him, everyone else was much more friendly with her. Nobody ignored her any more when she spoke to them, or give her annoyed looks. They were all perfectly friendly, not really friends, but for the first time she was happy to have them all in her house.

Together, they walked down to the Quidditch pitch. Many students carried binoculars; since the players often flew very high, it could be hard to see what was going on. They found places in the top row right behind the Gryffindor goalposts, where they raised their banner.

While they were waiting for the match to start, Lee Jordan, a friend of the Weasley twins and Quidditch commentator, introduced the teams.

"Gryffindor fields the youngest team in about two hundred years. With one fifth-year, four third-years, one second-year and even one first-year, people might think the team won't be strong. But you're wrong! Oliver Wood, Keeper and Captain, has put together a very strong side. Fred and George Weasley as Beaters act as if they could constantly read each others thoughts. Oliver himself might as well be a wall that encloses the goal hoops. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell are the strongest and best-looking team of Chasers Hogwarts ever -"

"Jordan!"

Professor McGonagall had the task of watching over Lee and ensuring that he stay on the topic and impartial, a task that seemed impossible.

"And of course there's the new Seeker, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who is a rare phenomenon on the broom. Trust me, people, this boy will not miss many snitches in his life.

"Slytherin has the same team as last year, all of them one year older and one year larger, though certainly no better -"

"Jordan!"

"- which of course is not all that bad at all. Marcus Flint is Captain and Chaser. The other players really aren't that important -"

"JORDAN!" cried Professor McGonagall, accompanied by angry shouts from the Slytherin fans and laughter from the rest of the school.

"- but anyway, here they are."

He listed all the other players on the team, but Hermione didn't listen. She was too busy cheering for the players who now emerged from the tunnel that led to the changing rooms. There was Harry. He looked very small among the other players.

Madam Hooch awaited the players in the middle of the field. She was refereeing the match. She spoke to them and the captains shook hands. Then they mounted their brooms. On Madam Hooch's whistle they all rose in the air. The Snitch had been released a little earlier to give it time to hide, but now the Bludgers took off to the goalposts from where they would start their attacks, and the Quaffle was released in mid-air by Madam Hooch. Angelina Johnson was the first to reach it.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Hermione stifled a giggle.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle -"

Hermione was amazed at the speed at which they played. The Quaffle was passed back and forth between the Chasers while they were flying at a mad speed, swerving to avoid Bludgers and enemy Chasers. The Beaters zoomed in an out of the other players, hunting after the Bludgers and knocking them toward targets – now one Bludger hit Katie Bell in the back of the head, causing her to drop the Quaffle. But she just flew on, turning her broom around as fast as she could to try and head off Adrian Pucey, who had caught the falling Quaffle and was now speeding towards the Gryffindor goalposts. She never reached him though, because another Bludger by one of the Weasleys – Hermione noted with amusement that not even Ron or Lee could tell them apart at this distance – kicked the Quaffle right out of his hands into the path of Angelina, who caught it and raced towards the Slytherin goalposts. The Beaters tried to stop her, the Keeper tried to stop her, but they failed.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" shouted Lee and the Gryffindors jumped up in their seats, cheering.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione made some (well, actually much) space so that the gamekeeper, who was a good friend of Harry, could join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," he said, patting his oversized binoculars. "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," answered Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

That much was true. Aside from some artistic flying manoeuvres in celebration of their goal, Harry had only been floating above the game, watching out for the Snitch. A stray Bludger had come his way at one point, but he had easily dodged it.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, watching the boy through his binoculars. Hermione could only see a tiny red speck in the sky.

The game continued.

"Slytherin in possession," came the commentary. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

Something golden had flown past Adrian Pucey, who had dropped the Quaffle trying to keep the something in sight. The cheering stopped and was replaced by whispers and murmurs. Both Seekers went into steep dives, gathering speed as they practically fell towards the ground, their paths converging on their target, the tiny golden ball that was now trying to flee. The Seekers levelled out, neck to neck, but Harry's broom was faster. He gained an edge on Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, watched not only by the crowd but also by all other players, who were hanging motionlessly in the air. All except one. Marcus Flint had gone into a dive, his path intersecting with Harry, who lay flat on his broom, having eyes for nothing but the Snitch -

WHAM!

The two players collided in mid-air, but Flint, who had anticipated, no, provoked the collision got his balance back in moments, while Harry, having been completely unprepared, clung to his broom in an effort not to fall off.

The Gryffindors roared in rage.

"Foul!" shouted Ron next to Hermione, and dozens of voices echoed him.

"Send him off, ref! Red card!" yelled Dean Thomas.

"This isn't football, Dean," Ron said. "You can't send people off in Quidditch – and what's a red card?"

"They oughta change the rules," Hagrid said angrily, "Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Madam Hooch was shouting at Flint too, then order a penalty for Gryffindor. Lee was furious.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating -"

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul -"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you -_"

"All right, all right," Lee conceded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could have happened to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Ten points more for Gryffindors, but it was a small remedy for winning the game, because the Snitch had of course disappeared in the confusion. Harry regained height and went back to watching the game.

Adrian Pucey intercepted a pass between the Gryffindor chasers and passed the Quaffle to Flint, who took off, dodging Alicia and Katie, ignored a Bludger hitting him in the face and put the Quaffle past an astonished Oliver Wood.

"What's up with him?" Hagrid mumbled while the Slytherins broke into cheers.

Hermione followed his looks and saw something that made her stomach lurch. Harry was clinging desperately to his broom, which jerked wildly and rose steadily higher.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid continued. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom ... but he can't have ..."

Other people were noticing the problem now, too. Hands pointed at Harry and the players stopped to look up. Harry's broom had started to roll over and over again, then it suddenly gave a big lurch and nearly threw Harry off. He managed to cling onto the broom with only one hand, but he wouldn't be able to hold it for long.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said. His voice was shaking and he had gone as pale as could be expected from him. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Dark Magic. Someone was trying to kill Harry, Hermione realised. And there was only one adult who hated Harry. She couldn't believe it, she didn't want to believe it, but it was the way it was. She snatched the binoculars out of Hagrid's hands and scanned the crowd where the teachers sat. She found Snape.

"What are you doing?" she heard Ron say.

"I knew it," she gasped. "Snape – look."

She shoved the binoculars into Ron's hands. She had already seen enough. Snape was whispering an incantation, his eyes fixed on Harry.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," she said.

"What should we do?"

A plan formed in her head. She had to break Snape's eye contact.

"Leave it to me."

She ran off. Down the stairs she ran, along the front row, up some other stairs. A narrow path led under the seats of one row behind the row where Snape was sitting. Too narrow. She bumped hard into someone, who fell headfirst into the people before him. She had no time to apologize. A look at Harry showed the Weasley twins now circling below him, hoping to catch him when he fell. She ran on, until she reached Snape. She crouched down and pointed her wand at his robes.

"Flamma Albastra Minor!"

Blue flames shot out of her wand and clung to Snape's robes. The robes immediately caught fire. Hermione took a jar out of her pocket and waited.

About half a minute later a yelp told her she had done her job. She scooped the Bluebell flames off the robe into the jar and retreated as fast as she could. Hurrying back she noticed that the man she had knocked over was Professor Quirrell, but she couldn't apologize. They would find out why she was there in the first place and she'd be in deep trouble.

Only when she left the stands did she dare look back on the field. To her relief, she saw Harry remounting the broom. He sat for a moment, then pointed his broom down, eager to reach the ground as soon as quickly as possible. Maybe to quickly – near the ground he suddenly clasped his hand to his mouth. He rolled off his broom, came to a halt on all fours and looked as if he was about to throw up. But what came out of his mouth wasn't green, it was golden. He held it up and shouted, "I've got the Snitch!"

It took a moment before the crowd realised what was going on, then all hell broke loose. The Gryffindors were cheering, the Slytherins were besides themselves in anger, the other houses were laughing at the absurdity of it all. Marcus Flint was shouting at Madam Hooch, who was ignoring him. She blew her whistle and the game was over. Gryffindor had won. Hermione didn't know why Slytherin had sixty points, but it didn't matter. They had won. Harry was alive and had caught the Snitch.

"That was brilliant," Ron called, running up behind her. "Come on."

He set off towards the pitch, where Harry was still sitting on the ground, surrounded by his cheering team mates. Ron, Hermione and Hagrid joined them.

"That was beyond cool," Ron shouted, clapping Harry hard on the shoulder.

"Are you well, Harry? We were so worried," Hermione said, reaching him. Harry gave her a weak smile.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Come on, Harry," said Hagrid. "I'll make yeh a cuppa tea. Come on, get up."

Ron and Hagrid pulled Harry to his feet and they set off towards Hagrid's hut, leaving the other Gryffindors behind.

In the hut, Ron set to explaining to Harry what had happened during the match.

"It was Snape," he said. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," interrupted Hagrid. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The three friends looked at each other. Ron and Hermione gave Harry a nearly imperceptible nod.

"I found out something about him," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he growled.

"_Fluffy_?" they all exclaimed.

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the -"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly – too eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me any more. That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it."

"Rubbish," Hagrid repeated. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" Hermione cried. She didn't like being proven wrong, but when she was she didn't hold to wrong beliefs. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said angrily. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"

"Aha!" said Harry. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid had gone very red and refused to speak any more of it.


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas drew closer and the weather became even colder. The ice on the lake became thick enough to carry people, something the students noticed with glee. Then, one night, the snow began to fall and in the morning the castle and grounds were covered in a deep, white blanket. Snowball fights started up everywhere, carried out partially with magic. The Weasley twins bewitched some snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around and bounce off the back of his turban, but the snowballs were traced back to them and they got punished.

The castle itself had become an oversized freezer. Icy winds gushed along the corridors, and the students paid more concentration in Potions on keeping close to the hot cauldrons without burning themselves than on making the potions. Hermione looked up and learned several Warming Charms, but their effects were so short-lived it wasn't really worth casting them.

The holidays were only a few days away. Hermione didn't really know if she should look forward to them. It would undoubtedly be nice to see her family again, but during the past two months Hermione had been happier than ever before. What was worse, the entire family would get together at Christmas and Hermione would have to endure endless questions about school that she couldn't answer, as everyone except her parents thought she attended the private boarding school they had originally planned.

Harry and Ron were staying at Hogwarts. Harry of course had no family worth returning to; according to him, his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, were the most terrible people in the world, with the exception of Malfoy and Snape. Ron's parents were visiting Charlie, his second-oldest brother, in Romania, were Charlie was studying dragons. Thus all Weasley children stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays, and Harry was looking forward to the best Christmas he had ever had.

In fact, he was so happy about it that even Malfoys taunts couldn't get to him.

"I do feel so sorry," Malfoy said, one Potions class, "for all the people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

His cronies chuckled stupidly, but everyone else ignored him. Including Snape, something that enraged Hermione to no end. The teacher had no right to ignore Malfoy speaking in class, taunting other students, when the slightest whisper from a Gryffindor immediately resulted in lost points.

Not that Malfoy was very adept at making fun of Harry. In a jealous rage after the Quidditch match, he had told everyone how a wide-mouthed frog would replace Harry as Seeker, but nobody except his fellow Slytherins found that even remotely funny. They were all far too impressed that Harry had stayed on the broom in the first place. Not that anybody except Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid knew why broom had acted that funny. They hadn't told their classmates, knowing that if the rumour spread, they'd get into trouble for starting it.

When they left the dungeons after that lesson, a large fir tree was blocking the corridor. The tree had two very large feet and made loud puffing sounds that reminded them strongly of Hagrid.

Ron stuck his head through the branches and said, "Hi Hagrid, want any help?"

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron," came the gamekeeper's answer.

Hermione was shoved to the side suddenly and Draco stepped up.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" he drawled. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Hermione made a grab for Ron's arm, but he had already attacked Malfoy.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of Malfoy.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid came to Ron's defence. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape with annoying superiority in his demeanour. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

The Slytherins didn't hesitate. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy strolled away through the corridor the two created with their bodies. A large amount of needles fell down as they pushed past the tree.

"I'll get him," said Ron, his ears red and his jaws set, "one of these days, I'll get him ..."

"I hate them both," Harry added darkly, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas." said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

They took the offer gladly and followed Hagrid and his tree into the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy decorating.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?"

Hermione felt another pang of regret as she entered the hall. However hard her grandparents might try, the decorations in their large country house could never even be noticeable next to what filled the Great Hall. The sky was criss-crossed with festoons of holly and mistletoe, which also decorated the walls. An even dozen Christmas trees stood without any discernible pattern around the hall, no two looking quite the same. Some had tiny icicles hanging from the branches that glittered and sparkled in the light from the hundreds of candles that filled other trees. Professor Flitwick was just covering the new tree with countless golden bubbles that welled from his wand, which seemed to fascinate Ron to no end.

Hagrid must have noticed the look on Hermione's face, for he asked, "How many days you got left until yer holidays?"

"Just one," she answered. "And that reminds me – Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," Ron said, tearing his eyes away from the tree. They marched swiftly out of the hall. Hagrid followed them; with his long legs he didn't need to hurry to keep up.

"The library?" he asked. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him merrily. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

Hagrid didn't take these news well.

"You _what_? Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione in her most innocent voice.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added with a grin. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," Hagrid said.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron. He gave him a tiny wave and they left Hagrid behind.

She had lied, of course. They were looking for Nicolas Flamel because he was their only clue as to what Snape was trying to steal. They all wanted to find out, partly due to curiosity, but also because if Snape was really trying to steal something, he ought to get imprisoned for it. The boys on the other hand acted as if they simply were searching for a way to get Snape sacked. The problem was that they couldn't find any reference to Flamel at all. They knew he knew Professor Dumbledore, so they focused their research on lists of recent wizards and discoveries. But neither was he in Charmers You Have To Know, nor in a list of contributors to Transfiguration Update. Hermione had browsed through endless lists of names in Wizards of Note and had studied stacks of the research update magazine What We Are Up To. But interesting as the recent breakthroughs in Flipping Charms were, nowhere was Nicolas Flamel mentioned.

Hermione had prepared a long list of books she wanted to look through and went straight to the next one on her list. Ron, on the other hand, wandered aimlessly among the rows, pulling out books more or less randomly. She would eventually have to teach him organized research. Harry entered the Restricted Section, the area of the library that contained books about the Dark Arts or that there otherwise considered inappropriate for most students. You needed a signed note from a teacher in order to retrieve one of the books there, but Harry was hoping he'd get a few minutes without Madam Pince pouncing on him.

Half an hour and five books later Ron and Hermione joined Harry, who was already waiting for them. They all shook their heads and went off to lunch. It had been Hermione's last chance to find something before Christmas.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" she said. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," suggested Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," she said. As if my parents would know any wizards.

They had already given each other their Christmas presents, wrapped up of course. She had gotten them both sweets, not only because she knew they would like them, but also because it was hard to get anything else at Hogwarts, and they weren't allowed outside the grounds.

Now she was sitting with the other Gryffindors on the Hogwarts Express, watching the Hogsmeade station fade into the distance. They had travelled from the castle to the station in carriages that moved on their own accord, without anything pulling them. Before that they had all gotten reminders that they were disallowed to do magic during the holidays, something Hermione regretted greatly. She would have loved to show her parents some controlled magic.

They were waiting just outside the barrier. Her father scooped her up and whirled her around, then handed her over to her mother for a tight embrace while he took her trunk. Together they set off to the car, Hermione already chattering away happily about her term.

She had to be careful. Not only couldn't she tell anyone except her parents about magic, she couldn't tell her parents everything either. They were so concerned about her safety; if they knew that she had already escaped death narrowly two times and her friend three times, they wouldn't ever let her go back to school. She didn't like withholding things from them, but it was necessary. She had to go back to Hogwarts.

Her parents, she noticed, had a much clearer idea of what had been going on than she had ever let on in her letters.

"We were concerned," David said. "We knew you weren't happy until Hallowe'en. What happened?"

"How did you know?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"My dear Hermione," Jane said, "you were writing far too many letters for a girl who's supposed to have fun with friends. Not that you mentioned any. You kept writing about how great classes were, never a single bad word about a teacher. It's unnatural."

"And then, just after Hallowe'en, there was a sudden drop in the letter count, and those that came were almost exclusively about Harry and Ron, Ron and Harry."

"We were very happy for you, of course. So, what happened?"

Hermione stared wide-eyed at her parents. She had been sure she hadn't given anything away – well, there was no time now to dwell on this, she had to make up a story of why they had become friends. The best lies, she knew, where those that contained a grain of truth.

"Well, we got into some trouble together, being out of the tower when we shouldn't be. It kind of brought us closer."

"I hope you don't get into trouble too often."

"No, mum, don't worry. We didn't even lose house points." Harry and Ron had made it clear, very soon after Hallowe'en, that they considered the evening a win of five points by the three of them together.

David changed the subject.

"So, will you show us some magic, then?"

Hermione grimaced.

"No, sorry. I'm not allowed to do magic outside school until I'm seventeen. Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry, they call it."

Her parents looked predictably disappointed.

"It gets worse," Hermione said unhappily. "I didn't even know about this beforehand, and I wanted to make your Christmas presents with magic, and now I can't. I can't do any magic until I'm back at school."

"Hmmm," her father mused. "Tell you what, why don't you make the presents at school when you're back and send them to us? Can owls carry packages too?"

"Oh, yes, they can." The idea cheered Hermione up a lot.

They stopped at their house only long enough to unload the trunk and load the luggage they'd need for the Christmas holiday and drove on to Jane's mother. They often spent Christmas there. Elisabeth Cranleigh had a large house and an even larger garden and loved to have both her children and their families with her. Jane's younger brother, Thomas, had a son of Hermione's age and a daughter three years older. Eddie and Susan were the only friends Hermione had ever had before Hogwarts, but as they lived in the far east of England they rarely saw each other, usually only at family reunions such as Christmas. The Grangers had always wanted a second child, too, but they hadn't been successful for years and had finally decided that they didn't want that large a distance between their children. Jane's father had died when Hermione was still a baby, she couldn't remember him at all. David's parents would be there, though.

They arrived late in the evening. The house looked very festive indeed, even if it was nothing compared to the Hogwarts Great Hall. The rest of the family greeted them and helped them with the luggage. Hermione would be sharing a room with Susan, something that wouldn't have bothered her except that she'd have liked to have some privacy to open her presents and in case an owl arrived. That couldn't be helped, though.

Dinner was the first test of her made-up stories. At first she merely listened to her cousin talk of his new school and complain about the idiots from that nearby other school, Smeltings. But eventually the talk turned to her own school. Luckily nobody knew anything about the school, so Hermione could get away with completely wrong information. She told them that students were sorted by their talents into four houses after an initial test according to their talents. She talked about the football league at school and how they defeated another school team despite various attempts at cheating. And of course she complained loudly about her unfair chemistry teacher.

Later she sat alone in the library when her father entered. He sat down opposite her.

"That was quite a performance," he said, smiling at her.

Hermione nodded dully. They sat in silence for a long moment.

"I don't like this," Hermione finally burst out. "I don't like this at all. I hate lying to my own family. I hate that I have to watch my every word, my every move, for fear of giving something away. They're the few people that I like and trust, and now I can't trust them any more. Why does it have to be so hard?"

Her father looked taken aback at first by her sudden outburst, but then he got up, sat down next to Hermione and pulled her into his lap. She leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. Again they sat in silence, her father rocking her lightly like he used to do when she was younger.

"You still have us," he whispered in her ear. She didn't answer.

"Hermione?"

"Yes. I still have you," she said. If they only knew.

Luckily Oliver Wood sufficed to sate Susan's interest in boys at Hermione's school. She didn't have to speak of it again.

On Christmas morning Hermione woke very early. Susan was still fast asleep when Hermione crept to her trunk and pulled out her presents from Harry and Ron. She went back to bed, ready to throw the covers over them immediately should they be something loud – she wouldn't put anything past Ron or even Harry. She opened Ron's present first. It was nothing loud. In fact, it was something very silent: a small box of Sugar Quills. Attached to the box was a note.

As if made for you. Merry Christmas Ron

She smiled. Sugar Quills were an intricate candy, a thick beam of sugar with arms on both sides, the room in-between filled with spun sugar. They looked and felt exactly like goose quills, except that you could suck them. Despite being magically reinforced, they were so fragile that only recent developments on the area of Cushioning Charms allowed their safe transportation over long distances. She carefully put the box away and took Harry's present. It contained sweets, too. Three roles of Tooth-Flossing String Mints, together with a note by Harry.

One for you and one each for your parents. Or two for you and one for your parents. It's up to you. Merry Christmas Harry

Hermione grinned. Her parents would love it.

Susan stirred on the other bed. Hermione quickly hid her presents from view. While not magical themselves, they were still impossible to create without magic. At least they weren't Chocolate Frogs, like she had gotten for Harry. Explaining a candy hopping across the table would have been very difficult.

Susan opened her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," was the first thing she said.

"Merry Christmas, Susan."

They went down to the living room together. Eddie was already up and staring longingly at the presents under the Christmas tree.

"Merry Christmas," the girls called together.

"Happy Christmas," the boy called back. "What do you think, can we already open the presents?"

"Definitely not," Hermione's aunt said, coming into the room. "You'll wait for everyone to be up."

Eddie made such a disappointed face that Hermione had to laugh. Barbara Cranleigh walked over and ruffled his hair.

"Geroff, mum!"

"Don't worry, they're already coming."

It was true; within two minutes, everybody was inside the room and the children attacked their presents. Hermione got mostly books, as usual. One, however, contained a note from her parents.

We'll give you your real present later, it's not suitable for this company. Jane and David

Hermione crumpled the note and put it in her pocket, wondering what the real present was. Something they got in Diagon Alley, without doubt.

She found out later that day, when her parents entered her room unexpectedly. Susan was out in the snow with Eddie and Hermione was about to go after her.

"Wait a moment, Hermione," her father said. "We haven't given you your present yet."

They gave her a rattling box. Hermione took it carefully and unwrapped it. When she opened it she heard an annoyed voice.

"Well, finally! We thought we'd be stuck in here forever."

The voice belonged to a chess piece that was lying in the box. In fact, it was a complete set of Wizard's Chess pieces.

"Wow," Hermione said. Wizard's Chess was like normal chess, except that the pieces were enchanted to move on their own when commanded and even equipped with a little intelligent thought. They gave constant commentary to the games and piped up when they disagreed with a move. Hermione had seen people get into heated arguments with their chess pieces in the Common Room.

"Maybe you'll find someone to play with you," David said.

"I will," she said. Ron had his own set of chessmen.

"Who are you?" a knight suddenly asked. "Oh, great, a beginner. Well, there goes our reputation."

"I'm your new owner," Hermione said grinning. "So you better listen to what I say."

"I think you don't understand who's in command here," said the knight.

"I am. And we're in a Muggle house, so you better shut up." She closed the box and buried it deep in her trunk, ignoring the screams of protest from the pieces.

"I've got something for you, too," Hermione told her parents. "Harry thought you'd like them."

She pulled out the String Mints and handed them to her parents.

"Tooth-flossing string?" her father asked bewilderedly.

"Tooth-Flossing String Mints," Hermione corrected. "They're a candy, but yes, you can use them as tooth-flossing strings."

David looked suspiciously at the loose end of the strings and then took it in his mouth. His expression changed from doubtful to surprised to pleased in moments.

"They're good," he stated. "Fascinating. Send our thanks."

"I will," Hermione said. "Look what I got from Ron."

She pulled out the Sugar Quills.

"Be careful, they're very fragile. Made of the purest sugar."

Her mother took out one of the quills and looked at it wide-eyed.

"Incredible," she breathed. "They're beautiful."

Hermione smiled.

It was a very enjoyable holiday, yet Hermione was glad when she said goodbye to her parents and disappeared through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Late in the evening, when they were back in the horseless carriages and the castle came into sight, she knew that it was worth all her problems at home.


	12. Chapter 12

The boys, Hermione found out, had not found Nicolas Flamel during the holidays. In fact, they hadn't even looked.

Ron welcomed her back enthusiastically, promising her something great once they couldn't be overheard. Harry on the other hand looked very withdrawn. When she asked what was up, Ron fended her off with a mumbled, "I'll tell you later."

The great thing Ron was talking about was a Christmas present Harry had gotten. Someone, they suspected Professor Dumbledore, had given him an Invisibility Cloak that had once belonged to his father. These objects were very rare and very expensive, but very useful too.

Harry had tried to use it to search the Restricted Area of the library, but the books there didn't want to be looked at by unauthorized people. The one Harry had picked had started to scream and almost given him away.

At this point in the tale Harry announced that he would go to bed. Ron gave him a sad look and went on telling.

Fleeing from Filch and Snape, Harry had stumbled upon yet another rare magical object, the Mirror of Erised. This mirror, it turned out, showed the one who looked into it their greatest desire. Harry had seen his family. Ron went silent after that, letting it sink in.

"He was really excited," he finally said. "The night after that he dragged me to the room. He wanted to show me his family. But it didn't work of course, I could only see my own greatest desire." He grimaced. "I saw myself as Quidditch Captain and Head Boy," he said, sounding disgusted. "I was holding the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. Really, I don't know what that mirror's thinking.

"Anyway, ever since then Harry's acted strange. Even at the mirror he didn't want to let me look at myself any longer, he practically shoved me aside so he could see his parents again.

"I tried to tell him not to go again the next day. He didn't listen. It was scary, his eyes were burning. Lucky he met Dumbledore there."

"He met Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione gasped.

"Yeah, he was right there in the room, waiting for Harry. In fact, he was there the night before, too, just invisible. Dumbledore explained the mirror to Harry and warned him not to come again. He said that people have gone mad looking at their desire.

"He was right, Hermione. Look at Harry. He's having nightmares, he's screaming in his sleep. He's seeing his parents being murdered."

Ron swallowed hard.

"Dumbledore convinced Harry not to go looking for the mirror again. I hope it will get better now. Well, that's the story of our holiday. How was yours?"

Hermione stared at Ron. He said all that and then just changed the subject? But his face said clearly that he wouldn't speak of Harry any more, so she resigned to telling him about her Christmas.

The chess set Hermione had received from her parents turned out to be very useful as Ron had taught Harry to play during the holidays. Harry had also acquired a complete set from wizard crackers, while Ron played with one that had once belonged to his grandfather.

Hermione had always thought that she was decent at chess; it was, after all, a game for thinkers. But not only did Ron win every game against her easily, even Harry won most of his games against her. Her chess pieces became more sarcastic by the day and took a long time of convincing to agree to her moves. Even more infuriating was that Harry and Ron seemed to be of the opinion that losing was very good for Hermione.

They continued their search for Nicolas Flamel during their free time. Often it was only Ron and Hermione, as Harry was more busy than ever with Quidditch practice. However, they weren't any more successful than before the holidays. Hermione was completely through her list and they still hadn't found a sign. In fact, they were close to giving up their search and spent less and less time in the library.

One such evening they were in the Common Room playing chess while Harry was at Quidditch practice. Hermione shuddered at the thought of being outside. It was very cold and very rainy these days, but that didn't seem to dampen Wood's enthusiasm at all. Hermione preferred to be inside, especially now that for the first time it looked as there was a remote chance she might win the game against Ron. He was taking longer than usual for his moves and his chess pieces had lost a bit of their arrogance.

The portrait hole opened and a very muddy Harry crawled in, looking very tired and – afraid. It was not an emotion she would associate with Harry, but there it was. He wandered over to them and dropped into a chair.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron. "I need to concen-" He broke off when he looked at Harry. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

"Snape," said Harry very quietly. "He's refereeing the next game. He's never refereed before."

"Don't play," Hermione said at once. Snape refereeing could only mean that he wanted a better chance to get to Harry.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg."

"Really break your leg."

"I can't," Harry said. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

Hermione opened her mouth, but at that moment Neville practically fell into the Common Room. Fell, because his legs were stuck together with the Leg-Locker Curse. Hermione had no idea how he had climbed through the portrait hole or even reached it, but it wasn't important. She jumped up and broke the curse even while everyone else broke into laughter. Neville got up and she led him back to where Harry and Ron were sitting. He was shaking very hard.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Malfoy," he replied weakly. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practise that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall! Report him!"

But Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

Somehow it was the wrong thing to say. Neville almost broke into tears.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," he choked.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, which he gave to Neville.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," he said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

That cheered Neville up; he almost smiled as he unwrapped the Frog.

"Thanks, Harry ... I think I'll go to bed ... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

He handed Harry the card and walked slowly towards the boys' dorms. Harry looked at the card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, turning the card over. "He was the first one I ever -"

He gasped and his eyes went wide as he stared at the backside of the card. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione.

"_I've found him_!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I _told_ you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here – listen to this: 'Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_'!"

It hit Hermione like a lighting bolt. She whispered, "Stay there!" and sprinted up to her room, from where she retrieved All Ancient Alchemy. Then she ran back to the boys who were still in the same position she left them.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"_Light_?" said Ron, staring at the huge book.

"Be quiet, I need to look something up."

The book had no index, so she had to search page by page, but eventually she found the section she was looking for. She quickly scanned the page.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" Ron asked grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she proclaimed quietly, "is the _only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone_."

She looked at them expectantly, but met only blank looks.

"The what?" the boys asked together.

"Oh, _honestly_, don't you two read?" Even Muggles knew of the Philosopher's Stone. "Look – read that, there."

She pushed the book towards them, pointing at the section on the Stone.

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it. That's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you ever dying!" said Harry musingly. "No wonder Snape's after it! _Anyone_ would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

"I'm going to play," Harry told Ron and Hermione after next morning's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Hermione looked at him. She had completely forgotten about the impending Quidditch match over the excitement of the last evening. So, apparently, had Ron. The boys had spent the whole lesson discussing what they might do with all the money they could get with a Stone.

"If I don't," Harry reasoned, "all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them .. it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the pitch," said Hermione darkly.

"We've got to do something," Hermione declared when Harry was off at practice. "Something to prevent Snape from hurting Harry."

Ron nodded. Like her, he wasn't concentrating on their chess game at all, despite the loud complaints of his pieces. He made a move and stared past Hermione.

"Neville!" he suddenly whispered. Hermione looked around. Neville was indeed just coming down the stairs of the boys' dormitory, but there was nothing special about him.

"What's with Neville?" she asked.

"Remember the curse? You can't fly with your legs locked. We could use it on Snape if he tries anything."

Curse a teacher? A teacher who attempted to kill a student, she corrected herself.

"Can you cast the curse?"

"Can you?"

Hermione nodded.

"I think so. I know how it works, I've never tried, though."

"We've got an hour before Harry comes back." Ron stood up. "Let's find a classroom and practice."

"Locomotor Mortis!" Hermione cried. Ron's legs snapped together and he reached for a chair for balance.

"I think I've got it," she said. Ron nodded. Over the past hour he had endured many slightly miscast spells. She performed the counter-curse.

"My turn next time," he said. "We've got to go back now."

Harry was nervous, even if he told them he was not. They took to accompanying him everywhere. They met Snape several times a day, and they couldn't risk him catching Harry alone.

By the time the match was scheduled, both Ron and Hermione could cast the Leg-Locker Curse in their sleep. They said goodbye to Harry at the entrance to the changing rooms, wondering if they'd ever see him again up close. Then they went off to the stands and found a place next to Neville. They watched Snape come on the grounds, floating the box with the balls before him.

Hermione was nervous. She tried not to show it, but there it was, like a big lump of ice in her stomach. She looked at Ron, who was slipping his wand up his sleeve for easier access.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," she muttered.

"I know," replied Ron surprisingly forceful. "Don't nag."

"Look at that," Neville said suddenly. "Even Dumbledore has come to watch."

Hermione looked over to the teachers' area and let out an audible breath of relief, just as Ron did the same. Professor Dumbledore was indeed sitting in the stands, chatting with Professor Flitwick. With him there, there was no way Snape could do anything to Harry. Yet Hermione was not about to lose her alertness. Unlike Professor Dumbledore, she knew that Snape might try something, so she could react faster, seconds that might be crucial for Harry's survival.

It was hard to tell from the distance, but Snape looked very angry as the teams marched on the pitch. Ron, who had better eyes than Hermione, confirmed it.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he said. "Look – they're off. Ouch!"

Hermione looked at him; behind him, Malfoy and his thugs were standing.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there," the boy drawled. Hermione tuned him out and concentrated on the match. Lee Jordan, the commentator, was walking a narrow path on the edge of detention.

"The referee for this match is Professor Snape. Professor Snape has never refereed a game in the memory of the students, but if his style is anything like his teaching style then this match could be very interesting, though not in the usual sense."

Professor McGonagall was glaring daggers at him, but couldn't yet interfere. Besides, some of her glares were directed at Snape, who had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because one of the beaters had directed a Bludger his way, or maybe the way of the Hufflepuff player behind him.

Hermione noticed very little of the match or of her surroundings, except that Malfoy kept saying stupid things. She was concentrating on Harry, all her fingers crossed, hoping that he would catch the Snitch soon and safely return to the ground. He was again high in the air, circling over the pitch, ready to go into one of his insane dives at the first hint of something golden. Still, she let Lee's commentary filter into her mind.

"It's Spinnet with the Quaffle – she dodges a Bludger – passes to Bell – no, Quaffle intercepted by the Hufflepuff Captain – who drops it – what the? OK, looks like a penalty for Hufflepuff, no idea why – taken by MacMillan – but Wood saves, this guy really is incredible -"

Suddenly Harry dropped from the sky like a stone, gathering speed.

"Ron!" Hermione called. "Harry -!"

"What? Where?"

By now Harry resembled a vertical red blur more than anything. The Hufflepuff Chaser tried to follow him, but was left far behind. The only problem was that Snape was directly in Harry's flight path. Hermione stood up, stuffing her hands into her mouth. Something moved next to her, but she ignored it.

"Come on, Harry!" she screamed, leaping on to her seat. Harry was still heading for Snape, who hadn't yet noticed him. It looked as if he was about to spear him on his broom. Then Snape turned on his stick, Harry altered his direction – and streaked past Snape, missing him by inches. Moments later he pulled out of his dive, clutching the Snitch in his raised hand.

Hermione let out a shriek of triumph. The stands erupted in shouts and Lee happily proclaimed the Gryffindor win, "despite adverse conditions."

Hermione felt like hugging someone. She made a grab for Ron, but he wasn't next to her any longer.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you?" she called. "The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor are in the lead!" More importantly, Harry had survived. Her mind was a wonderful blur. She hugged Parvati, who was standing right in front of her, instead of the missing Ron.

On the pitch, Harry had landed and his team was rushing towards him. The first to reach him, though, was Professor Dumbledore.

Putting Harry's safety out of her head for a moment, Hermione went looking for Ron. She found him under her seat, still locked with Malfoy, his nose bleeding heavily. Malfoy had a nasty welt next to his eye. Both were staring at the Quidditch pitch, their brawl forgotten. Next to them, Neville lay, knocked unconscious by Crabbe and Goyle, who were looking at the pitch too.

Even as she looked, Malfoy gathered his followers and left, shooting murderous glares at Ron.

Ron turned to her and grinned.

"We won," he said simply, completely ignoring his bloody face. He laughed.

"We won!" he shouted, jumping up. Together they cheered.

Seamus and Dean came over, looking just as excited as they.

"Incredible," Dean called.

"Must be a school record," Seamus added. "What happened to Neville?" he said, spotting the boy lying on the floor.

"Took on Crabbe and Goyle," Ron laughed. "Way to go."

Her initial euphoria dampened, rational thought returned to Hermione's brain.

"We should take him to the hospital wing," she said.

"Right," said Ron. "Come on."

He lifted Neville's arms and Dean and Seamus took a leg each. Then they wandered off towards the castle.

Madam Pomfrey asked few questions. She just told them to place Neville on a bed, then healed Ron's nosebleed. After a short examination she told them that Neville would be fine. The other students went back to the Gryffindor tower, where a huge party was already in progress. Fred and George had sneaked to the kitchens and obtained large amounts of food. They joined the celebrations, but soon Harry's absence started to worry them. What if Snape had caught him on his way to the castle?

When Hermione told Ron about her worries he immediately agreed to go looking for Harry. Luckily they met him on their way to the Entrance Hall.

"Harry, where have you been?" she asked him.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right – talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the Common Room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

Harry, however, was looking quite horrified.

"Never mind that now," he said, sounding as if he had run the whole distance from the pitch. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

After hearing what Harry had to say, she assumed that he really had run all the way from the pitch. Taking his broom to the broomshed, he had seen Snape sneaking into the forbidden forest. He had followed him on his broom and had overheard a conversation between Snape and Professor Quirrell.

"Snape had arranged it. He wanted to meet in the Forbidden Forest because students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone.

"So we where right, it _is_ the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus' – I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell which Snape needs to break through -"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.


	13. Chapter 13

"Still there."

Ron stepped away from the door to the forbidden corridor and rejoined Harry and Hermione. They had taken to listening for Hagrid's dog every time they passed the door. It was two weeks after the match against Hufflepuff, and so far Professor Quirrell hadn't cracked, although he looked worse every time they saw him. Harry gave the Defence teacher encouraging smiles every time they met and Ron actually told people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had other things on her mind. Just the day before she had realised that exams were only ten weeks away. The Philosopher's Stone had driven them completely from her mind, something she regretted immensely. She had immediately started to draw up revision schedules for herself and colour-coded her notes. Harry and Ron, of course, were far too lazy to do anything of the kind, despite her nagging. If they kept up the way they were going, they would fail the exams and would have to repeat the first year, and where would she be then?

"Hermione," Ron had said exasperatedly, "the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks. That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old. Anyway, what are you revising for, you already know it all."

"What am I revising for? Are you mad? You realise we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's got into me..."

Harry and Ron usually reacted by rolling their eyes and continuing to do exactly what they were doing before.

The teachers, at least, were on Hermione's side. They piled loads of homework on them, especially for the Easter holidays. Hermione would have preferred to follow her own schedule, but at least the homework forced Harry and Ron to do the work, too.

Indeed, after pestering them long enough, they eventually gave in to her and spent their time with her in the library, doing their work, even though they kept complaining. The bad weather was a help, though. On the first beautiful day for month, Harry and Ron were even more unwilling than usual to study.

"I'll never remember this," Ron declared in the afternoon, throwing down his quill and staring longingly out of the window.

"Hush," said Hermione absently. Madam Pince strictly enforced the silence in the library.

"Hagrid!" Ron suddenly called. "What are you doing in the library?"

Hermione looked up. Hagrid was coming out from between the rows and wandered towards them. He very poorly tried to hide something behind his back.

"Jus' lookin'," he said. None of them believed him. You could always tell when Hagrid was lying.

"An' what're you lot up ter?" Suspicion crossed his face. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Harry told him. "_And_ we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-"

"_Shhhh_!" Hagrid cut him off. He looked around for listeners. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few thing we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry skipped in, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy -"

"SHHHH!" repeated Hagrid, sounding like a waterfall. He looked truly horrified. "Listen – come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -"

"See you later, then," said Harry merrily and Hagrid left.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" mused Hermione.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, jumping readily at the excuse not to work. A minute later he was already back, carrying a stack of books and unloading them on the table.

"_Dragons_," he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," said Harry, "he told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that."

Hermione hadn't known, and once again she wondered why Ron didn't apply himself more to school work; he would do so well.

"It's hard to stop Muggles noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous," he continued. "You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't any wild dragons in _Britain_?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron impatiently. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our lot have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermione. Even she had enough of studying for the day and a new mystery was perfect for relaxing.

An hour later they wandered down to Hagrid's hut. They found all the curtains closed, something that was very unusual. They knocked.

"Who is it?" came Hagrid's voice from inside.

"Just us," Harry called.

Hagrid opened the door and pulled them inside before quickly closing the door again. It was terribly hot inside, the heat held up by a blazing fire. They accepted the tea Hagrid offered, but knew better than to accept his sandwiches.

"So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry, straight to the point. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

All he got was a frown.

"O' course I can't," Hagrid said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

The direct approach hadn't worked, but Hermione had expected that and had spent most of the last hour thinking about a way to get information. She made her voice as flattery as she could and said, "Oh, come one Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you _do_ know, you know everything that goes on round here."

Hagrid's beard twitched as he smiled and Hermione knew she was getting through.

"We only wondered who had _done_ the guarding, really." She was almost there. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

She could see Hagrid's chest swelling at the flattery. She could also see the boys giving her appraising looks and her own chest swelled a bit, too.

"Well," Hagrid said slowly, "I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that ... let's see ... he borrowed Fluffy from me ... then some o' the teachers did enchantments ... Professor Sprout – Professor Flitwick –" he was counting them on his fingers, "Professor McGonagall – Professor Quirrell – an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"_Snape_?"

"Yeah – yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_ the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

The Trio's eyes met and they silently agreed. Snape probably knew all the protections and how to get past them – except, apparently, Fluffy and whatever Professor Quirrell did.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" asked Harry, voicing their common fear. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry told Ron and Hermione in a low voice, then continued loudly, "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," Hagrid answered, looking at the fire for a moment. They all turned their heads towards it.

"Hagrid – what's _that_?"

It was a useless question. _That_ was a large, black egg lying in the hottest part of the fire, and there could be no doubt to which animal the egg belonged. Nonetheless, the question made Hagrid very nervous and he fiddled with his beard as he answered.

"Ah ... that's ... er ..."

Ron had leapt up and was crouching near the grate.

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" he said. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it. Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'. Got this outta the library – Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here – how ter recognise diff'rent eggs – what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare them."

He looked very pleased with himself. Hermione furrowed her brow. Aside from being illegal, a fire-breathing dragon would cause other problems.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_," she said, but he didn't listen. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

Hermione had to take back her earlier words about a mystery being relaxing. It had only given them another thing to worry about.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed one evening. The homework load had increased further and the boys were struggling to keep up. They hadn't appreciated the revision timetables Hermione had made for them either. But she was ready to put up with that as long as they actually followed them and passed the exams. They could thank her later. She knew that they probably wouldn't, though.

One morning, Hedwig, Harry's owl, delivered a short note from Hagrid.

It's hatching.

"Let's go," Ron said immediately. Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"What about Herbology?" she asked.

"We'll skip it. This is more important."

"Are you mad? We can't just skip a lesson."

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing compared to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry broke in. Hermione whipped around. Malfoy was standing close, delight on his face.

They didn't talk until they were out of the castle and on their way to the greenhouses.

"Look, let's just go," Ron said quietly. "We've got Herbology twice a week. We don't have Care of Magical Creatures until third year even if we choose it, and even then we surely won't ever see this."

"But people will be wondering where we are," Hermione retorted. "What are we going to say then? 'Sorry, we've been watching Hagrid's dragon hatch?'"

"We can make up a story. We have a lot of time."

They kept arguing until they reached the greenhouses.

"Look, it doesn't matter, because Professor Sprout has already seen us," Hermione said. "We can't skip Herbology now."

"Then let's go during the break. Come on, Hermione, just during the break. Maybe we're lucky. It's History of Magic after that, Binns never notices if anyone is late anyway."

"Fine," Hermione gave in. "But just during break."

At the end of the lesson they rushed off to Hagrid's hut as fast as they could.

"It's nearly out," said Hagrid in greeting, pulling them inside. The egg was lying on the table, cracks running across the shiny surface. It wobbled and noises could be heard from inside. They drew chairs around the table and waited. Hermione was suddenly glad that she let Ron convince her.

The constant clicking suddenly stopped. Then, with the sound of ripping paper, the egg cracked and fell open. The baby dragon flopped down on the table. Its wings were still crumpled and wrapped around the body, which looked small in comparison. It stretched and Hermione could see its head, which had huge orange eyes, a long snout and tiny horns. All in all, the dragon looked like a miniature version of a full-grown one, in perfect proportion. Which made Hermione wonder if it was already capable of breathing fire. The dragon answered the unspoken question when it sneezed and a couple of sparks flew out of its huge nostrils.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid sighed, looking at the dragon as if it was a cuddly dog puppy. Which to him it probably was, Hermione reminded herself. But still, it _was_ a dragon. It snapped at the hand with which Hagrid was trying to stroke it, and Hermione could see that it already had sharp teeth in its mouth. Dragons were counted among the deadliest beasts on earth for a reason.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" said Hagrid.

A question was bothering Hermione.

"Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid didn't answer. He suddenly stared out of the window and went pale. He leapt up and made two quick strides to the window.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains – it's a kid – he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry ran to the door and stuck his head outside. His grey face as he pulled it back in told them enough.

"Malfoy."

The only good news was that Malfoy had not gone straight to a teacher. Instead he smiled evilly at them every time they met, something that made the three of them very uneasy. They spent the free time in their schedules with Hagrid, trying to convince him to give the dragon up.

"Hagrid, you can't keep the dragon," Hermione told him. "It's illegal, he will set the house on fire and he'll attack you eventually. Once he's large enough, and at the rate he's growing it won't be long 'til then."

"He won't attack me," Hagrid said stubbornly. "He knows me. Where's your mummy?"

The dragon shot a small jet of flame at Hagrid, nearly setting his beard on fire.

"He's just playing, Hermione," Hagrid said soothingly. Hermione shook her head and left.

"We've found a way," Ron told her two days later. The boys had been at Hagrid's hut without her, as she had wanted to finish a long essay for Professor McGonagall. The boys' essays were, as always, exactly as long as requested and not one inch longer. But essays were driven from Hermione's mind at the good news. "And we've convinced Hagrid of it," Ron continued. "We're going to write to my brother – in fact, we've already written to him, Harry's gone up to the owlery to send the letter – anyway, we're asking him if he can take the dragon. He can take care of it."

Hermione's heart lightened.

"Will he do it?"

"Charlie? I'm sure he will. All we need is a way to get Norbert to him."

"_Norbert_?"

"Yeah, that's what Hagrid called his dragon. He's raving mad."

Norbert grew larger. He had gone from brandy and chicken blood to rats. Lots of rats. They were taking turns in helping Hagrid feed the dragon.

Wednesday night was Ron's turn. Harry and Hermione were sitting in the common room, waiting for his return. It was drawing close to midnight and everyone else had gone to bed already.

The portrait opened and Ron appeared out of nothing, pulling off Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"It bit me!" he spat, holding up his hand. It was wrapped in a handkerchief, the blood soaking through. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

Any attempts to answer his tirade were cut off by a tap on the window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, leaping up to open the window. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The owl glided in and landed on the table between Ron and Hermione. Hermione untied the message from the owl's leg and they leaned together to read it.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter – I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love, Charlie

They traded looks.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult – I think the Cloak's big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

Hermione didn't disagree. Anything was acceptable if they would get rid of Norbert, and besides, Hermione knew that by "two of us", Harry meant him and Ron. She didn't mind being left out of _that_ adventure.

Ron came into the Common Room the next morning with what looked more like a club than a hand. He didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey for fear that she would recognise a dragon bite, but eventually he had no choice. It seemed that Norbert's fangs were poisonous, for by the afternoon, the hand had turned sickly green.

They went to visit him in the evening. He was lying in the bed, looking very pale.

"Incredible animal, isn't it?" Harry asked him quietly. "Sharp teeth, fire breath, claws and now he turns out to be poisonous too. Next time we meet him he'll be able to kill with a look."

Ron smiled weakly.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me – I've told her it was a dog but I don't think she believes me – I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

"Malfoy's a git," said Harry. "He'd be doing this no matter what."

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, trying to calm Ron down. She failed miserably. Ron sat up quicker than she'd have thought him capable of.

"Midnight on Saturday!" Ron gasped. If he hadn't been ill he would surely have shouted. "Oh no – oh no – I've just remembered – Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Before they could answer, Madam Pomfrey sent Harry and Hermione out of the hospital wing, saying that Ron needed sleep.

With Ron being sick, the task of carrying Norbert fell to Hermione.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told her. "We haven't got the time to send Charlie another owl and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we _have_ got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They went down to Hagrid to tell him that Charlie had agreed to take Norbert. Apparently Ron wasn't the only victim of Norbert's teeth: Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, was sitting outside the hut, his tail in bandages.

Hagrid didn't let them in. Instead he opened a window to talk to them.

"Norbert's at a tricky stage – nothin' I can't handle."

They told him about the letter. Norbert chose that moment to attack Hagrid.

"Aargh!" Hagrid called, his eyes filling with tears. "It's all right, he only got my boot – jus' playin' – he's only a baby, after all."

It seemed that the baby was about to bring the hut down, banging its tail against the walls, but there was no use in arguing with Hagrid.

Hagrid was in tears on Saturday night, when they came to get Norbert. They would have felt sorry for him, but they felt more sorry for themselves, for what they had to do. It was just as well that they hadn't had classes that day; Hermione would have been completely unable to concentrate.

They were already late. Peeves had been in their way, playing tennis against the wall in the Entrance Hall. Norbert was packed in a large crate, ready to be carried away.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid sadly. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

Judging from the ripping noises from inside the crate, Norbert would be without his teddy bear on the journey.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" sobbed Hagrid at last. "Mummy will never forget you!"

They covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and stepped under it. The crate was heavy. They were out of breath by the time they reached the castle, but they still had to carry the crate to the highest tower. Step by step they heaved the crate up the marble staircase, then another staircase, along a corridor and another staircase. Harry picked out shortcuts and easier stairs whenever he could, but it helped very little. Hermione found herself blinking back tears of frustration.

Eventually they reached the last corridor.

"Nearly there!" said Harry between heavy breaths. Only the tower itself remained.

Something moved ahead. They nearly dropped the crate. Quietly as they could, they shrunk back into the shadows. Only then did Hermione remember that they were invisible. Ahead of them two people were struggling. Then a lamp flared and cast its light on the scene.

Professor McGonagall was there, wearing a tartan dressing-gown and a hairnet, her lips pressed together hard. And she was holding Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you -"

"You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

She dragged him away, and Harry and Hermione seemingly floated up the last stairs. On top of the tower they took off the cloak. Hermione felt so happy that she hopped around the tower.

"Malfoy's got a detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," said Harry, grinning widely.

They settled to wait. Suddenly the fun of adventure was back. They were almost done, and it hadn't been that hard.

Charlie's friends arrived ten minutes later. They had set up a harness between their four brooms, in which they fastened the crate.

They said their goodbyes with much laughter, and Harry and Hermione gave their thanks, and then watched the dragon get smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared.

They practically bounced down the staircase. Bounced directly into something terrible, something that made Hermione's heart drop like a rock.

Filch was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, and the Invisibility Cloak was still on the top


	14. Chapter 14

The exams were easier than Hermione had expected. The greatest problem was her worry for Harry; often he would suddenly look up from his parchment and stare at the classroom door. He also kept rubbing his scar; he said it burned almost constantly since their detention in the Forest. But there was nothing she could do, so she focused on her exams, trying to ignore the summer heat. They were using special quills that were enchanted with an Anti-Cheating spell for the written exams. Hermione idly wondered how they worked, if it was possible to enchant quills for other uses too and how hard it would be to break the spell – not that she would ever consider cheating.

The practical parts of the exams were more interesting. Professor Flitwick told them to make a pineapple tap-dance across a table, rating the intricacy of the dance. Professor McGonagall let them turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Hermione managed to produce a beautiful wooden box painted in a complicated pattern. Professor McGonagall called it quite remarkable, and Hermione left the classroom skipping. Snape had them brew a Forgetfulness Potion. Hermione only hoped he wouldn't test it on them, because they still had their History of Magic exam, which was only about memorizing dates and names. They spent their afternoons in the Common Room or on the grounds, going over their notes again and again. Harry and Ron were using her History of Magic notes, of course, because they had slept through most of Professor Binns' classes.

The exam ended with all the students cheering. Exams were over and they had nothing to do for a week. Even classes would be very lax; according to the second-years most teachers spent their time answering any random questions students might have and teaching obscure but rather useless spells they were never tested on.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," Hermione told Harry and Ron as they left the castle together with the other students. "I needn't have learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Hermione, don't," Ron said tiredly. Unlike her, he didn't want to talk about the exams at all. She sighed but said nothing. They wandered down to the lake and laid down under their favourite tree, were they had spent a lot of time revising lately. All around them students were sitting, talking and laughing. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan had their own kind of fun: they were standing in the shallows of the lake, tickling the tentacles of the giant squid. The tentacles twitched and occasionally dunked one of them into the water, but all in all the squid seemed to enjoy it.

Ron stretched out on the grass and looked at the deep blue sky.

"No more revision," he said dreamily. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry, however, was obviously not worrying about exam results. He was rubbing his scar.

"I wish I knew what this _means_!" he suddenly said angrily. "My scar keeps hurting – it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill. I think it's a warning ... it means danger's coming."

"Harry, relax," Ron said, "Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Hermione had rolled over so she could see the boys. Ron was still lying on his back. His head was slightly tilted so that he could look at Harry, who was sitting up next to him. His face was incredibly freckly, making a nice contrast to his red hair, which was glowing in the sunlight.

Harry nodded, but still looked thoughtful. His green eyes seemed darker than usual. His black, permanently messy hair was parted at the fringe so that Hermione could see his scar. It was definitely more visible, though that might have come from Harry's constant rubbing.

"I just have this strange feeling," he said. "As if I've forgotten something, something important. Maybe I ought to borrow Neville's Remembrall."

"That's just the exams," said Hermione. "I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Harry looked very sceptic. His eyes were following something in the sky. Hermione looked up. An owl was fluttering towards the school, something clutched in its beak. That reminded Hermione that she should send her parents a letter.

Suddenly Harry jumped up.

"Where are you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," Harry answered, already walking quickly away. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

Ron and Hermione jumped up and hurried after him.

"Why?" Hermione asked, breathing heavily. It was definitely too hot for exercise, especially if that exercise consisted of running up a hill.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry without slowing down, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

Hermione could have slapped herself. It was so obvious.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, but he got no answer.

They ran across the grounds to find Hagrid outside his hut, sitting in an armchair and shelling peas.

"Hullo," he greeted them. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," Ron said, breathing hard, but Harry talked right over him.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid, "he wouldn't take his cloak off."

Spot on, thought Hermione. Realization dawned on Ron's face.

"It's not that unusual," Hagrid said quickly, "yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

They all sat down in the grass.

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid?" Harry inquired. "Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," Hagrid said slowly, recalling the night's events. "Yeah ... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here ... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after ... so I told him ... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon ... an' then .. I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks .. Let's see ... yeah, then he said he had a the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted ... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home .. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy ..."

A cold lump formed in Hermione's stomach. Harry was struggling hard to keep his voice calm as he asked, "And did he – did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

"Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

He cut off, horror creeping over his face.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he said. "Forget I said it! Hey – where're yeh goin'?"

They had jumped up and were already running towards the castle, none of them saying a word. They stopped in the Entrance Hall. After the bright sunshine outside it seemed very dark inside.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak – it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

Hermione suddenly realized she couldn't remember. She knew that there was a Gargoyle in front of the entrance, but that was no help. There were dozens of Gargoyles all over the castle, one of them even in sight from where they stood. They looked around, but there was no indication of the location of the headmaster's office anywhere. Hermione kept silent, she didn't want to explain why she had been there. It would have been useless anyway.

"We'll just have to -" Harry began but was cut off.

"What are you three doing inside?" Professor McGonagall asked. She was carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, earning her impressed looks from the boys for her daring.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" echoed Professor McGonagall suspiciously. "Why?"

Hermione searched for a good excuse, but Harry was faster.

"It's sort of secret," he blurted out. Hermione winced. Sure enough, the explanation didn't satisfy Professor McGonagall at all. She straightened and looked down at them.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she told them coolly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off to London at once."

"He's _gone_?" Harry asked, panic rising up. "_Now_?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time -"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look, Professor – it's about the Philosopher's Stone -"

Professor McGonagall dropped the books she was carrying. Hermione had never seen her so unnerved.

"How do you know -?"

"Professor, I think – I _know_ – that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall seemed to try to look into Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she finally told them. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor -"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she cut him off. She gathered up the dropped books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

There was no chance of that, of course. Harry only waited for her to get out of earshot before speaking.

"It's tonight. Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -" Ron started, when Snape suddenly appeared behind the boys. Hermione gasped and the boys wheeled around.

"Good afternoon," Snape said and, as they only stared at him, continued, "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this." He did what passed as smiling for him.

"We were -" Harry started, but Snape didn't even let him start his fabricated tale.

"You want to be more careful. Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can they?"

Harry's face went red, as did Ron's ears. Hermione's own face felt rather hot, too. They turned around without a word and walked towards the front doors.

"Be warned, Potter," Snape called after them. "Any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He left in the direction of the staff room. They walked on until they were on the stone steps that led up to the castle doors.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," Harry told them in an urgent whisper. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape – wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?" The thought of following Snape around was very unsettling.

"It's obvious," said Ron with annoying superiority. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice in a very poor imitation of her. "Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong..."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "All right, I'll do it."

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on."

They ran off. Hermione watched them for a moment and then walked to the staff room and waited outside. Two gargoyles sat at the sides of the door, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Now what would you want?" one asked.

Hermione pretended that she didn't hear him.

After a while, Snape came out.

"Miss Granger," he said, "are you still not tired of this hot, dark castle? What would a young student such as you do waiting outside the staff room?"

"I – I'm looking for Professor Flitwick."

"Why didn't you knock?" Snape sneered and went back into the staff room. A moment later he appeared again and walked away down the corridor.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped. She had completely overlooked tiny Professor Flitwick, who had followed Snape out of the staff room.

"Ah – yes, Professor," she stammered, glancing after Snape, who just turned a corner, and trying to come up with a cover story at the same time. "Uh ... it's about the exam ... I'm not sure if I did the basic colouring charms right, I think I wrote something wrong for the modifications of the wrist movement to get mixed colours, and I wondered -"

Professor Flitwick cut her off with a huge smile.

"Don't worry Miss Granger, you certainly did the question justice."

He set off slowly down the corridor in the opposite direction that Snape had gone, beckoning her to follow.

"In fact, you did every question justice. I looked at your exam first of all, and I'm very impressed. Though it did take me quite a while to correct it, you wrote so much. Now," he said, looking up and down the corridor and reducing his voice to a conspirational whisper, "don't tell anyone I said this, because I'm not supposed to, but I already graded the exam. You reached one hundred and twelve per cent, that's the highest score in twenty years, and only the sixth time in my life that somebody got that much, including myself."

"Really?" Hermione asked weakly.

"Really," said Professor Flitwick, then continued in his normal squeak. "You will yet make us very proud, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor."

Professor Flitwick turned and went back to the staff room. Hermione remained where she was, a happy smile on her face. One hundred and twelve per cent. Never had she expected that. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place. Frantically she ran down the corridor to where Snape had disappeared, but he was nowhere in sight. There was nothing to do but to return to the Common Room and wait for Harry and Ron.

They were already there.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she apologized. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away. I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

Hermione stared at him without any idea what he was talking about. He was ghostly pale, yet his eyes were burning with a cold fire of determination.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Ron immediately.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted at her. She took a step back in shock. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter any more, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor win the House Cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It's only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

Hermione struggled for words. Harry was radiating power and he had fixed them with his bright green eyes, which were boring into them like drills.

"You're right, Harry," she finally managed to say. Harry visibly deflated and the aura vanished.

"I'll use the Invisibility Cloak," he said. "It's just lucky I got it back."

The night after their detention, it had lain in his bed, together with a note that said, "Just in case."

"But will it cover all three of us?" Ron asked, voicing Hermione's thoughts.

"All – all three of us?" Harry asked, clearly confused.

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," Hermione added. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful ..."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

_If we get caught, You-Know-Who will kill us, too_, Hermione thought, _I'm Muggle-born after all_. But she said, "Not if I can help it. Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration. Hermione's notes on the three subjects were about two feet high, all together. She spent the afternoon and the evening skimming through the stack, hoping that something might be useful, while Harry and Ron sat together in silence. Nobody spoke to them, as usual. They only left the room for dinner, then went back to the Common Room and waited for the room to empty. Lee Jordan was the last to leave.

"Better get the Cloak," Ron muttered. Harry ran up to his dormitory. Hermione packed her notes up and stacked them in a corner. Harry came back just as she finished.

"We'd better put the Cloak on here," he said, "and make sure it covers all three of us – if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"

"What are you doing?"came a voice from behind a chair. Neville raised his head, his hand clutching his toad, which he apparently had just caught.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry quickly, hiding the Cloak behind his back. Neville didn't buy it.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," Hermione said. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville." It was no more convincing than what Harry had said.

"You can't go out, you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry desperately, "this is important."

"I won't let you do it." Neville hurried over to the portrait hole and blocked it. "I'll – I'll fight you!"

"_Neville_," Ron hissed, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville fiercely. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to _us_," said Ron exasperatedly. Hermione had to grin despite herself. She quickly suppressed it. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing," Ron continued, taking a step towards Neville. Neville raised his fists, dropping Trevor. The toad quickly hopped away.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville. "I'm ready!"

"_Do something_," Harry whispered to Hermione. She swallowed and pulled out her wand. Stepping in front of Ron, she said, "Neville I'm really, really sorry about this.

"Petrificus Totalus!" She pointed her wand straight at Neville as she cried the incantation. A jet of light hit him directly in the breast. The effect was instantaneous. Neville's body went completely rigid, like a log. His arms and legs snapped together, his jaws clamped shut and his neck stiffened. Unable to hold balance, he fell on his face before any of them could catch him. She ran to him and turned him over, her eyes wet. He could only move his eyes. He stared at her in blank horror, which made her feel even worse.

"What have you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind. Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," Ron added.

They pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and stepped over him out of the Common Room. They had just overcome the first obstacle, and they felt terrible.

They moved very slowly, shrinking back from every shadow or noise. They were constantly afraid that their legs would show just when Filch happened to wander by. At the first staircase they met Mrs Norris, but while she looked straight at them, she didn't do anything else. Hermione couldn't hear what Ron whispered to Harry either, but Harry shook his head anyway.

The remaining trip was uneventful, until they came to the staircase that lead to the third floor. Peeves was floating over the staircase, setting up the carpet so that people would trip over it. The poltergeist seemed to have some sixth sense because he noticed them as they silently tried climbed past him.

"Who's there?" he asked. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He floated directly in front of them, squinting at them with his mischievous black eyes.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

"Peeves," Harry suddenly said in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Hermione hadn't known that ghosts could crash, but Peeves came very close to it. He caught himself mere inches from the ground and rose up about a foot high.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr Baron, sir," he said hastily. "My mistake, my mistake – I didn't see you – of course I didn't, you're invisible – forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves. Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will. Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

He flew off hurriedly.

"_Brilliant_, Harry," whispered Ron.

They hurried up the stairs and reached the door to the forbidden corridor. It stood open a bit.

"Well, there you are," said Harry. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

They stood there uncertainly. Facing the obstacles to the Stone was bad enough, but now they would probably have to fight Snape too. Hermione knew that even the three of them together weren't really a match for a fully trained wizard.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Harry said. "You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," added Hermione.

Harry pushed the door completely open. It made little noise, but apparently enough to alert Fluffy. The dog couldn't see them, but it could smell them. It raised its three heads and sniffed frantically, trying to find them. Something was lying at its feet.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione asked.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron, squinting into the darkness. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

He pulled out the wooden flute he got from Hagrid for Christmas and started playing. It sounded terrible, but the effect on the dog was all the same. It calmed visibly, then knelt down and keeled over, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned as he pulled the Cloak off all of them. They crept slowly towards the trapdoor, which luckily was free. Hermione didn't want to think what it would have meant if the dog had fallen asleep on top of it. They approached the dog carefully, stopping in front of its forelegs, which were blocking the way. One of the dog's heads was breathing at them. Hermione shivered despite the heat.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't."

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. Then he pulled the trapdoor open and looked inside.

"What can you see?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing – just black – there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop." His words echoed ominously in the hole.

Harry waved at Ron and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first?" Ron asked. "Are you sure? I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry stopped playing. Immediately the dog began to twitch. Harry handed Hermione the flute. The dog growled. She took the flute and set it to her mouth. She had never played any flute before, but whatever she did, it couldn't be worse than what Harry had done. She started playing and corrected herself. It could be worse. It made no difference to the dog, which had gone still again.

Harry climbed over it and crouched down next to the hole. He looked down, then turned around and slipped his feet inside. He lowered himself until Hermione could only see his fingertips clutching the floor.

"If anything happens to me, don't follow," he said. "Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope ..."

He let go and his fingertips disappeared. Hermione climbed over the dog, still playing.

"It's OK!" came Harry's voice after a few seconds. "It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron jumped.

"Come on, Hermione!" came Harry's voice after a few more seconds.

She jumped into the hole, followed by the barks of the dog as she stopped playing. Air rushed around her. The fall seemed to last forever, yet it was over as suddenly as it had started. She landed in something soft. She tried to gauge the distance she had fallen.

"We must be miles under the school," she said, looking up at the tiny spot of light that was the trapdoor.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron. She looked at him and went cold. The plant thing had wrapped itself tightly around his ankles, and Harry's as well.

"_Lucky_!" she cried. "Look at you both!"

She leapt up and started towards a wall. She almost fell because the thing had her own feet in slings, too, but she managed to struggle free and eventually reach the wall. The plant couldn't reach her there. She turned around and looked in horror at the scene. The plant had pinned both boys' arms to the ground and was wrapping itself around Harry's chest. They struggled, but the more they moved the faster the plant acted. Something clicked in Hermione's mind.

"Stop moving!" she called. "I know what this is – it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron. He was trying to fight off a tendril that was creeping around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" But Hermione's mind had gone terribly blank.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare ..." Hermione put her hands to her head and squeezed her eyes shut. It was as if a thick fog hid all the gems of knowledge in her mind. "What did Professor Sprout say?" A hole appeared in the fog and something glittered. "It likes the dark and the damp -"

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes – of course –" Fire. How to light a fire? Another part of the fog cleared. She looked around.

"But there's no wood!" she cried helplessly.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron shouted. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

His outburst drove the fog away completely. Magical fires burned brightly in her mind. She pulled out her wand, waved it and said, "Flamma Albastra Major!" Streams of blue flames shot out of her wand. She spread them over the plant. The tendrils wriggled and flailed and slowly retreated into one corner of the room. If the plant had a voice, Hermione was sure it would have screamed. The boys were able to pull the few remaining arms away and stumbled over to her.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," panted Harry, wiping his face.

"Yeah," said Ron acidly, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis – 'there's no wood', _honestly_."

Hermione was spared an answer by Harry saying, "this way," and walking down a stone passageway.

Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and occasionally they could hear water dripping from the walls. They walked steadily downwards, led by Hermione's wand light.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

They stopped to listen. They could indeed hear something ahead, the faint rustling and occasional metallic clinking.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" Hermione asked. Professor Quirrell might have placed evil ghosts here.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead – I can see something moving," said Ron.

Hermione extinguished her wand as they drew closer to the source of the light. It was a brightly lit room and they took a few moments to adjust to the light. They looked inside. High up in the air they could see a ceiling, and the air below was filled with colourful, glittering birds. They fluttered around, a thick, waving cloud of wings and sleek bodies. There was not a single twitter, though. On the other side of the room was the exit, a heavy, wooden, closed door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" asked Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once ... Well, there's nothing for it ... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted away. It looked almost comical, Harry running like mad, crouched down, with the birds fluttering peacefully above him. He reached the other side and looked around. He tried the door, but it was looked. Ron and Hermione walked across the room to him. Harry and Ron rattled the door together to no avail. Hermione took he wand and tapped the lock.

"ALOHOMORA!" she cried, putting as much strength in the spell as she could. A normal door would probably have fallen off its hinges, but this door didn't open.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds," Hermione said, looking up at them. "They can't be here just for decoration."

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're _keys_! Winged keys – look carefully."

Hermione squinted at the cloud. Indeed, the sleek bodies were made of metal, and what she thought were beaks were the front ends.

"So that must mean ... Yes – look!" Harry was saying. They looked where he pointed. "Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are _hundreds_ of them!" Hermione objected.

Ron examined the lock.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle."

Everyone took a broomstick and kicked off. Hermione made a few grabs, but caught nothing. She could fly well enough after a year of lessons, but she had never become really comfortable on a broom and lacked the agility needed to catch anything. Whenever she saw a key like Ron had described, it fluttered away before she could follow it.

"That one!" called Harry, pointing somewhere into the cloud. "That big one – there – no, there – with bright blue wings – the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron sped of into the direction Harry was pointing. The key fluttered aside, but Ron was too fast to stop; he crashed into the ceiling and barely managed to cling to his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called again. "Ron, you come at it from above – Hermione, stay below and stop it going down – and I'll try to catch it. Right, NOW!"

Hermione flew upwards, closing in on the key. Ron came down towards her. The key evaded them both and flew straight into Harry's path. It tried to flee, but Harry caught up and pinned it against the wall. Ron and Hermione cheered.

They landed and Harry unlocked the door with the key.

"Ready?" he asked. They nodded. Harry pulled the door open.

A short tunnel led them to another chamber. They couldn't see anything now that the light from the previous chamber had faded. Hermione considered lighting her wand again, but at that moment Harry stepped into the room and triggered a spell; light flooded the room and revealed the strangest thing Hermione had ever seen, even at Hogwarts.

In front of them lay a huge chessboard. The black pieces, towering over them, were carved from black volcanic rock. Opposite them, on the other side of the large room, stood the white pieces, carved from white marble. Behind them was the next door. Unlike the black pieces, which looked very real, the white pieces lacked faces, which made them a frightening sight. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered.

"Now what do we do?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

There had to be a catch.

"How?" Hermione asked.

"I think we're going to have to be chessmen."

There was a catch.

Ron walked up to a black knight and touched his horse. The figure sprang to life at the touch. The horse pranced a bit on the spot. The knight looked down at Ron questioningly.

"Do we – er – have to join you to get across?"

The knight nodded. Ron took his hand away from the horse and turned around. The piece froze again.

"This wants thinking about ..." Ron said slowly. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces ... Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly and Hermione nodded. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight."

The three mentioned pieces left the board at these words. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their places.

"White always plays first in chess," Ron mumbled. "Yes ... look ..."

The white king's pawn awoke and walked forward two fields.

"Pawn to D five!" Ron called. Their own pawn walked forwards to meet the white one.

Ron kept calling orders to the black pieces, and the white pieces responded in total silence. Their blank faces were unnerving. Hermione sat down on her field, hiding her head between her legs.

"Hermione, stand up. Rochade!" Ron called. Hermione looked up. The king was walking towards her. She walked past him and took her new place. Harry was standing in the middle of the board, trembling. Ron was sweating, but he had a determined look on his face. The white queen walked out from her starting position. Ron walked past a pawn to threaten her. The queen walked up to the other knight and smashed him from his horse down on the floor. Hermione shrieked. The horse bolted and ran away while the queen dragged the knight off the board and took his place.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, his face pale. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

She walked towards the huge figure. It was standing quite still. She pushed against it. It didn't move. She pushed with all her might. It still didn't move.

"Go away!" she cried. "You're taken. It didn't react. She pulled out her wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The bishop rose into the air. Hermione gave it a hard shove and it floated off the board, where she let it drop.

"Nice one," Ron called.

The game went on. The white pieces were brutal when it came to taking black pieces, and they took many. Ron held against them, taking many pieces himself.

"Harry, three fields ahead and to the left – no, WAIT! Their knight can take you there."

They played. Ron managed to avoid any of them being taken, often just barely.

And then he stopped to think for longer than at any point before.

"We're nearly there," he muttered. "Let me think – let me think..."

The white queen turned to face him.

"Yes ... it's the only way ... I've got to be taken."

The words hit Hermione like an icy shower.

"NO!" she and Harry shouted.

"That's chess! You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no use in arguing.

"Ready? Here I go – now, don't hang around once you've won."

He walked forward and to the right, his face set in cold determination. He stopped, staring defiantly at the queen. She walked towards him, closer and closer. Then she struck. Her stone arm hit Ron in the head and he collapsed. Hermione screamed, but didn't walk towards him – it would count as a move. The queen dragged him off the board.

Knees wobbling, Harry moved forward. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet in defeat. The pieces parted and cleared the way to the door, bowing them through. On both sides of the board the taken pieces stirred and stood up – all except Ron. He still lay there motionlessly.

Hermione tore her eyes off him and followed Harry through the door, lighting her wand again.

"What if he's -?" she began, unable to finish.

"He'll be all right," said Harry. "What do you reckon's next?"

Hermione thought about that as they moved along the corridor, upwards this time.

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare – Flitwick must've put charms on the keys – McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive –" – strong life spells were classified as Transfiguration because they changed the essence of the things being bewitched – "that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's ..."

They had reached the end of the passage.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on." Hermione held her wand ahead as Harry pushed the door open.

The smell that emanated from the room was horrible and Harry and Hermione held their robes over their noses. Hermione's eyes watered and she felt sick. She wondered if Snape had poisoned the air in the room. But then she remembered the smell: a troll. They ventured cautiously in the room. Hermione's wand light fell on a huge troll lying on the floor, even larger than the one that had attacked Hermione. The troll was unconscious, a bloody lump on its head. Hermione looked at it, fondly recalling what the end result of her last encounter with a troll had been.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry said as they stepped over the troll. "Come on, I can't breathe."

They walked through another short corridor. Then they reached the last door. They swallowed. Who knew what twisted trap Snape was capable of? Harry pulled the door open and they peered inside.

It was just a table with a row of seven different bottles, nothing else. An open archway was on the other side of the room, no visible obstacle barring their way.

"Snape's," said Harry unnecessarily. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped inside. Suddenly a purple fire flared up behind them. Hermione yelped and jumped forward. The other exit was blocked too, by black flames. Hermione looked around and saw a scroll of paper next to the bottles. She unrolled it.

"Look!" she called. Harry leaned over her shoulder to read along.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Hermione sighed in relief. She had expected to have to mix up the contents of the bottles in terribly complicated recipes, but a logical puzzle was another matter. She smiled.

"_Brilliant_," she said. "This isn't magic – it's logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here for ever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry said sadly.

"Of course not. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

She re-read the paper a few times, just to be sure. There wasn't any margin for errors. Drinking poison would kill them as surely as walking through a fire without having drunk the right potion.

She walked up and down the line of bottles, tapping them as she thought. The twin bottles could only be poison or nettle wine. One of them was huge, though, so it couldn't be poison. It had to nettle wine. That made the two bottles next to them poison. Three bottles left. The fire was roaring, disturbing her concentration. She couldn't make mistakes, not now. The tiniest bottle was third in the line. It had to hold either the black or the purple potion. If it was the purple one then the bottle next to it would be the black, or the one at the end. Was there any way to decide? She read the poem once more. No, the one at the end couldn't be the one that let them move onwards. The flames reflected in the bottles, dazzling her. The last one had to be the poison. It had to be different than that on the other hand though, what was that? Nettle wine or poison? No, the second was nettle wine, the first poison. The last couldn't be poison, but it couldn't be the black either, it had to be the purple. That meant that the tiniest had to be the black and the one next to it poison. Three poisons, two nettle wine, one forward, one backward. She had it. She clapped her hands in triumph.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire – towards the Stone."

Harry bent down and examined it.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at the last bottle.

"You drink that. No, listen," he said when she opened her mouth, "get back and get Ron – grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy – go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him really."

"But Harry – what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well – I was lucky once, wasn't I?" Harry said, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

She looked at him. It felt like taking a last good look, getting a last impression of what he looked like. He was pale. He looked tired – Ron had said that he hadn't slept properly since the night in the Forest. Dark rings were around his eyes, which were reflecting the purple flames behind her. And yet there still was this determination in them, as if he would walk straight through a wall if it stood in his way. Maybe there was a chance. A tiny chance.

Hermione ran forward and pulled Harry into a hug.

"_Hermione_!"

"Harry – you're a great wizard, you know," she sobbed. Then she let go of him and pulled back.

"I'm not as good as you," he said, his face very red.

"Me!" she said with a tiny snort. The great witch that couldn't make a fire without wood.

"Books!" she said. "And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – oh Harry – be _careful_!"

"You drink first," Harry said, even redder now. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

That was Harry, concerned with his friends even as he walked to face death.

"Positive." She took the rounded bottle at the end and took a great swallow. It felt like ice flowing into her stomach, spreading its cold through her body. She shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No – but it's like ice." The cold had left her stomach but was now all over her skin, as if she was coated in snow.

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck – take care -"

"GO!"

She turned around and walked through the fire. It felt pleasantly warm, but she felt sick inside. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen Harry for the last time in her life. She stopped after the fire and turned around, hoping to see through the flames, but they were completely opaque. Then she heard Harry's voice over the roar.

"Here I come."

A few moments later the flames died and the door closed in Hermione's face.

Hermione bit back her tears. She still had a job to do. She turned around, lit her wand and ran. She jumped over the troll's legs in one big leap and ran on. She didn't stop until she reached the chess chamber. The pieces had arranged themselves in the starting position again. Cautiously she squeezed through between the white pieces. She felt very alone, with the black pieces before and the white pieces behind her. Ron was still lying motionlessly at the side of the board. She hurried over and knelt down next to him. She could see that he was breathing. A big welt was on the side of his head and a little blood had seeped into his hair.

She put a hand on his cheek, and softly called, "Ron."

He didn't move.

"Ron, wake up!"

She shook him lightly. He didn't move. He looked fast asleep, not even pale. Like a normal sleeping child, completely at peace with the world. But the world wasn't at peace with them at the moment, they had to hurry.

"Ron!" she called louder. She held his head steady with one hand, but placed the other on his shoulder and shook hard. She didn't want to move his head too much; he probably had a concussion.

Ron didn't react to the shaking either. Hermione tried to remember the first aid instructions she had read ages ago, in a different world. She took Ron's hand and pinched it hard. Ron didn't wake up.

She started to get desperate. Every second delay was one more second Snape had to kill Harry, and in a magical duel, a single second could suffice. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Ron, but she couldn't think of any spell that might be useful. She had read of many medical spells like Ennervate, which was used to wake unconscious people, but they were far too advanced and dangerous for her. She settled on a spell that produced a cool stream of air and pointed her wand at Ron's face. With her free hand she kept shaking him, occasionally calling his name. Ron still didn't move. Hermione wished she could conjure or at least channel water, that might have helped.

Water. There was water in the tunnels. She could collect some there. Frantically she searched her robes for something Transfigurable and found a quill. Not much, but it would suffice. She stood up and ran towards the white pieces. Suddenly the pawns moved. They lowered their lances and pointed them at her. She stopped just in time to avoid being stabbed.

She turned around to face the black pieces, and a horrible thought struck her. What if the black pieces wouldn't let her back to Ron if she went past them? She couldn't risk that.

She went back to Ron and started to drag him across the chessboard, wishing that the simple Levitation spell they had learned worked on living things. Ron was heavy. She finally managed to drag him past the black pieces and laid him down in the doorway. Then she went ahead. There was indeed a tiny stream of water running along at one edge of the passage. She transfigured the quill into a phial and bent down to collect some of the water. Then she returned to Ron and poured it over his forehead.

Ron still didn't move. Now Hermione was getting angry.

"Wake up, Ron!" she cried, shaking his shoulder hard. "If you don't wake up soon, Harry may die! Are you listening? Harry will die if you don't wake up!"

She took his hand and pinched it again.

"Ouch!" Ron cried, sitting up suddenly.

"Ow," he said, grabbing his head.

"Finally," Hermione said.

"Hermione? What happened? Where's Harry?"

"Harry's facing Snape alone. We must get out of here and send an owl to Dumbledore. Can you stand?"

"Alone?" Ron cried, staring at her wide-eyed and forgetting about his sore head. "Why aren't you with him?"

"I'll tell you later, we have no time to lose. Can you stand?"

"I think so. Help me up."

She pulled him to his feet. He stood very wobbly, leaning heavily on her, but he stood.

"All right," she said. "Let's go to the key room, we'll need the brooms to get out."

Ron nodded and winced at the movement, putting his hand to his head again.

"Bloody thing," he muttered. "How stupid could I be, letting it just hit me?"

"You were amazing, Ron," Hermione said quietly. "Come on, I'll help you."

Together they walked down the passage to the key chamber. There they came upon the next problem. Hermione doubted that Ron would be able to ride a broom in his state.

"Don't worry," he said, reading her thoughts. "If I can walk I can ride a broom too."

He stepped away from her, took a broom and swung his leg over it. Then he pushed away from the ground and rose a foot in the air.

"See," he said. "No problem."

He didn't look at her, though, and Hermione noticed that he was gripping the handle very hard.

"What are you waiting for?"

She shook her head and took a broom for herself.

"You're so thick-headed, it's a wonder the queen didn't break her arm hitting you," she told him.

They flew up the tunnel to the Devil's Snare's chamber. Hermione looked if she could find the flute she had dropped earlier, but she couldn't see it. They would have to fly past Fluffy.

Before she could say a word, Ron flew straight into the vertical tunnel that led up to the trapdoor. He gained height rapidly. Hermione flew after him, hoping that she could catch him should he fall. But he didn't. He flew faster and faster, finally clearing the trapdoor and rising past a very surprised Fluffy. He came to a halt inches below the ceiling, looking down at the dog which was barking madly and jumping in the air to reach him. Ron was hovering too high, though.

The dog was so focused on Ron that Hermione was able to fly by completely unnoticed. She grabbed the harp that Snape had left and landed at the door. The moment she began to play the dog stopped jumping at Ron; a few seconds later it had once again fallen asleep. Ron swooped down and landed next to her.

"Right," he said, "where now?"

"The owlery. Which way is the fastest?"

"Entrance Hall and Whining Staircase," Ron said immediately. "Let's go."

They hurried down to the Entrance Hall. Filch called after them once, but they ignored him, and he couldn't catch up. They reached the Entrance Hall just when the front door swung open. In came none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. Before either of them could say anything, he asked, "Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?"

They nodded, dumbfounded, and Dumbledore ran off with surprising speed. They stared after him.

"How'd he know?" Ron asked finally.

"No idea," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Well, that much about the owl. Let's go back to Gryffindor and free Neville."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said. "And we'll probably have some explaining to do."

Hermione grimaced at the thought.

"And even more if Filch catches us now," she said.

"He won't," said Ron. Hermione looked at him. "I picked this up in the corridor," Ron explained, holding up Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "Come here."

She stepped closer to him and he covered them in the Cloak. Together they walked up to the Gryffindor tower.

Neville was still lying on the floor. His eyes were red; he seemed to have spent a lot of time crying, but he was sleeping now. Hermione went over to him and performed the counter-spell. His stiff body relaxed and his arms slumped to the floor, which woke him up. The moment he caught sight of them he scrambled up and ran towards the boys' dormitories, but Ron had blocked his path. Hermione moved to block the portrait hole too. Neville stared from one to the other like a trapped animal.

"Sorry, Neville," said Ron, "but you'll have to allow us to explain."

Neville's shoulders slumped and he dropped into a chair. They sat down opposite him.

"Where's Harry?" Neville asked.

"We hope he's well," Hermione said. "He had to go on alone. Dumbledore has gone after him."

"So he'll be expelled?"

"No! That is, we hope not. We tried to prevent Snape from stealing – something important. So nothing should happen."

"Snape – stealing something? A teacher?"

"You know what Snape is like," Ron said. Neville nodded.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "you know the dog we found that night? It's guarding this something, along with quite a few other traps, and Snape found out how to get past them. The teachers didn't believe us, so we went and tried to get it ourself."

"A very stupid thing to do," came a voice from the portrait hole. They leapt up.

"Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, "I can explain -"

"That won't be necessary Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall looked rather angry, but also decidedly uncomfortable. "I guess I have to apologize," she said. "I shouldn't have ignored you today. Apparently the protection on the Stone not even failed to keep Quirrell out, even three first-years managed to break through." She sighed. "What do you have to do with this all, Mr Longbottom?"

"He tried to prevent us going out at night again, Professor," Hermione said. "I had to curse him, so the least we could do was to give him an explanation." She hung her head.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well," she said, "we shall see about that. For now I'd like to hear how you knew about all of this."

"Wait a moment, Professor, you said Quirrell," said Ron. "Why him, we thought Snape -"

"Quirrell was the one who tried to get the Stone. He's dead now. That is all I know."

"How's Harry?" Hermione asked.

"He's in the hospital wing. He's unconscious and will probably remain so for a while. Now, I'd like to hear your story."

And so they told her about how they found out about the Stone, though they tried to keep all blame off Hagrid. When they were finished, Professor McGonagall stood up.

"Thank you," she said. "I know now that I shouldn't ever underestimate you three again. Now, I suggest you all go to bed. You still have classes tomorrow. You can visit Mr Potter afterwards if he's awake." She paused. "The headmaster has asked me to leave all consequences of tonight to him. I will tell him about the curse; I'm sure his reaction will be appropriate."

She left through the portrait hole.

Ron yawned.

"You know," he said, "for once I have absolutely no objection to doing what a teacher told me. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ron. Good night, Neville."

"Good night, Hermione."

"Er, Neville?"

"Yeah?"

Hermione looked at her feet, not quite knowing what to say. Neville guessed it.

"I forgive you, Hermione," he said.

She smiled.

"Thank you."

Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were cancelled because the teacher was dead. Harry Potter was in the hospital wing, probably an inch from death. The third-floor corridor was accessible again. Those were the whispers that went around Hogwarts the next days. Rumours connecting the events sprang up everywhere. Harry Potter had fought Quirrell, who had wanted to become the next dark lord, in an epic duel, using some power he had, unknown to them, which he had used as a baby once before. Harry Potter had controlled some monster to fight the battle for him, a vicious, three-headed, fire-breathing dragon that obeyed no one but him, and if anyone got on his wrong side they might find themselves attacked. No, Harry Potter had attacked Quirrell because Quirrell wanted to fail him in Defence; the Defence teacher had managed to kill the monster but had then died from his wounds and Harry Potter would be carried off to Azkaban Prison once he had recovered.

Hermione could only shake her head at some of the rumours she heard. She found herself beleaguered by Parvati and Lavender for information. The problem was that Harry was still unconscious and Hermione didn't have any more clues as to what had gone on in the final chamber than the others. Ron and Hermione knew more about Harry's health though. They spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday sitting next to his bed. Saturday morning was the last Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, but without Harry Gryffindor lost terribly. At the foot of Harry's bed stood a table piled with sweets; Ron and Hermione themselves had put some there, but many other students were so impressed by what they heard that they sent gifts too. Fred and George had tried to send him a toilet seat, some insider joke Hermione didn't understand, but Madam Pomfrey had intercepted it. Ron was already helping Harry to get through the immense box of Chocolate Frogs, saying that Harry wouldn't be able to eat them all anyway. Ron seemed quite capable of eating them all though. Madam Pomfrey had healed his head wound in mere minutes the first morning after their adventure, he hadn't even had to stay in the hospital wing.

The problem was that it was two days since that night now and Harry still hadn't woken up. Madam Pomfrey assured them that he was recovering, but he was so pale, so terribly still.

In the afternoon of the third day, Madam Pomfrey stopped them outside the wing.

"Mr Potter is awake," she said, "but he's very weak. I don't think he should have any visitors right now."

"Oh, please, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "I'm sure he would want to see us."

"I'll ask him," she said and went inside. A minute later she opened the door and let them in.

"Just five minutes," she told them.

"_Harry_!" Hermione called as she saw him. She wanted to hug him again, but she doubted Madam Pomfrey would like that, so she reigned herself in. "Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to – Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," Ron broke in. "What _really_ happened?"

"Settle down, it's a long story," Harry told them. They sat down and Ron took a small box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. He eyed them suspiciously.

"Go ahead," Harry laughed. "Dumbledore already picked out the earwax-flavoured one."

"_Earwax_?" Ron said, horrified, and quickly put the box back on the table, instead opting for some Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"I suppose Ron already knows what happened up to the point we got separated?" Harry asked Hermione. She nodded.

"Well, I went through the black fire, but I didn't find Snape or Voldemort there."

"Quirrell," said Ron. "His classes are cancelled. Not that they were much use..."

"Yeah, well, I was quite surprised. He saw me coming and was facing me, and I said, 'You!', and he just said, 'Me,' and that he was wondering whether he'd be meeting me down there. He wasn't stuttering at all. It's just an act he was playing all through the year. He even was the one who tried to kill me at the first Quidditch match."

"But – but it stopped when I set fire to Snape, didn't it?" Hermione asked.

"No. Quirrell said you knocked him over when you ran to Snape, so he lost eye contact. Snape" – he grimaced – "was trying to save me. What he was muttering was a counter-jinx. That's why he wanted to referee the next match, so he could watch me. Of course, with Dumbledore there it was useless.

"Then Quirrell snapped his fingers and conjured ropes to bind be. He told me that I was to nosy to live. He also told me that he had let the troll in at Hallowe'en. Didn't like that we defeated it." He chuckled and said with a sidewards glance at Hermione, "You could even say he did us a favour." They all laughed.

"So," Harry went on, "Snape suspected Quirrell and went to the corridor that night to head him off, so he couldn't do anything.

"Then Quirrell told me to be quiet. Dumbledore had hidden the Stone inside the Mirror of Erised, which stood down there. But Quirrell didn't know how and he went around and around, looking at the Mirror. I wanted to break his concentration, so I kept asking questions. What happened in the Forest when I saw him and Snape there. He said Snape was trying to threaten him to leave the Stone alone. But Snape really hates me, he was at Hogwarts with my father. They hated each other back then, and I think Snape carried it over to me."

"That's stupid of him," Hermione said angrily.

"Yeah, well, who ever said that Snape was fair?" said Harry.

"Quirrell saw himself giving Voldemort the Stone in the Mirror. But he couldn't get it, Dumbledore's plan was too brilliant for that. But I'll get to that later. Quirrell told me how he met Voldemort. He's completely mad. 'There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.' And he thought he deserved to be punished because he was so weak. He tried to steal the Stone from Gringotts, of course. I even saw him that day, when I first came into the Leaky Cauldron. Quirrell failed, of course, because Hagrid had taken the Stone away. Voldemort had to keep a closer watch on Quirrell. I didn't understand what that meant, at first.

"Then I realised that if I looked into the Mirror I would see me finding the Stone, so I would know where it is hidden. But I couldn't get to the Mirror. And then the oddest thing happened. Quirrell asked Voldemort to help him. And Voldemort answered. A voice came from somewhere, telling Quirrell to use me."

Hermione gasped.

"Quirrell unbound me and told me to look into the Mirror. I saw myself pulling the Stone out of my pocket and putting it back there, and suddenly I had it, there in my pocket. That was Dumbledore's idea. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone without using it would be able to get it.

"I told Quirrell I saw Dumbledore giving me the House Cup and shaking my hand. Quirrell believed me, but Voldemort didn't. He demanded to speak to me, face to face. And then Quirrell took off his turban."

He made a long pause. Ron and Hermione held their breath.

"Voldemort's face was in the back of Quirrell's head, sticking out like a parasite," said Harry.

Ron gasped. Hermione shrieked.

"You saw him?" she asked.

"He looks terrible. I can't describe it properly. The face was completely white and the eyes were red, and it had no nose, just slits. But..." He wrung his hands, searching for words, but didn't find any.

"Suffice to say," he said, "I was too scared to move. And then he talked to me.

"Told me unicorn blood kept him alive, but I already knew that. It was Quirrell I saw in the Forest. But the worst thing was that Voldemort somehow knew I had the Stone in my pocket. Told me to give it to him unless I wanted to die. As if he wouldn't kill me anyway. He told me lies, lies about my parents. That they died begging for mercy. My parents didn't do that," he said forcefully.

"I called him a liar, and he admitted it. Told me the truth. That my father fought him. That my mother died trying to protect me. He said she needn't have died." Tears were in his eyes now. "Then he told Quirrell to take me. Quirrell grabbed my wrist, and my scar hurt terribly. But somehow Quirrell couldn't touch me, his hands went all red and burnt. Voldemort told him to kill me, and I grabbed Quirrell's face and he cried in pain and rolled off me and I lunged after him and grabbed his arm. My scar was hurting terribly, but Quirrell couldn't do anything either. And then I fell unconscious. The last thing I felt was Dumbledore pulling Quirrell off me.

"I woke up this morning, with Dumbledore sitting by my bed. He told me that Quirrell had died after Voldemort had left his body. He told me other things, too. He told me he talked with Nicolas Flamel and they agreed to destroy the Stone. He told me why Quirrell couldn't touch me. It was because of mum. She died to save me, and thus somehow protected me. I still have it in my skin, preventing Voldemort or anybody possessed by him from touching me. It's her love." Harry said the last sentence very quietly.

"It was Dumbledore who sent me the Invisibility Cloak. My father left it in his care.

"That's all, really. Oh, and Dumbledore is very unlucky with the Beans. Got a vomit-flavoured one in his youth and now the earwax. He doesn't like them." He grinned.

They sat in silence. Ron broke it first.

"So the Stone's gone? Flamel's just going to _die_?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it? - 'to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure'."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, but he looked very impressed nonetheless.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

Hermione gave him a very brief account of events after she went back, up to the point where they had met Dumbledore.

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's Cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione said angrily, "if he did – I mean to say – that's terrible – you could have been killed."

Harry didn't look angry at all. He was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"No, it isn't," he said. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the Mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's barking, all right," Ron interrupted him. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course – you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you – but the food'll be good."

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," said Madam Pomfrey in that moment.

Ron and Hermione walked to the feast together the next evening. Harry would come directly from the hospital wing. As usual, heads turned when they walked by. Their involvement was one of the few constants in the rumours.

The Great Hall was decorated in green and silver, the Slytherin colours. A huge Slytherin serpent banner on the wall behind the staff table left no doubt about the House Cup winner. Looks followed them to their places, some dark and resentful, some just curious. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, leaving space between them for Harry. He appeared a few minutes later; his entrance was impossible to ignore. The hall fell silent the moment he stepped over the threshold as everyone turned to look at him. A second later everyone started talking loudly. A few cheers and thank-yous came from the Slytherin table. Harry didn't even turn his head as he walked towards Ron and Hermione and slid in the seat they had saved for him. People were actually standing up now to see him. Luckily Dumbledore arrived soon; his entrance shut the hall up.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore launched in his speech. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts ...

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.."

The Slytherin table broke into cheers, clapping and stamping. Harry looked like he might throw up. So did Ron. But the headmaster wasn't finished and raised his hands for silence.

"Yes, yes," he continued, "well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."

A hush fell. Does he mean...?, Hermione thought frantically. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Ahem. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First – to Mr Ronald Weasley..."

Heads turned towards the red-head, who had become a red-face too.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Deafening cheers broke out at the Gryffindor table. In one leap, they'd overtaken Hufflepuff. Percy was telling everyone who couldn't escape how it was his brother who had gotten past Professor McGonagall's chess set.

In time, the hall settled down.

"Second –" Hermione held her breath, not quite believing this was true, but hoping she knew what was to come, "– to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Four hundred and twelve points. Heads swivelled in her direction. Her ears faintly registered immense cheering that made the dishes rattle, but she didn't acknowledge it. Fifty points up. Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes and buried her face in her arms. It was like a dream; only, if it had been a dream, the shouting would have woken her.

"Third –" Dumbledore called over the noise once that was possible, "– to Mr Harry Potter..."

The name had the effect of instantly quieting everyone.

"... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

Hermione jumped up with everyone else, yelling and shouting. Four hundred and seventy-two points!

"We've drawn even! We've drawn even!" she yelled, laughing at the stunned faces of the Slytherins.

The headmaster raised one hand and eventually the noise died down, to be replaced by expectant looks and whispers. What would happen now that there was a draw?

"There are all kinds of courage," he said, smiling gently. Everyone held their breaths. The hall had gone absolutely silent. And into the silence, Dumbledore continued, "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points..." – the moment seemed to stretch out into eternity – "... to Mr Neville Longbottom."

The eruption of noise probably woke the owls in the distant owlery. Not only the Gryffindors cheered, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, who had yearned to see Slytherin lose, joined in the shouting and stamping. Neville looked much like when Hermione's curse had hit him, before he was buried under a crowd of people hugging him. It didn't matter that he had lost fifty points that night. It didn't matter that he had lost another thirty or so in Snape's classes. He had won these ten points, the only points he'd ever won, and they had propelled Gryffindor in the lead. Neville was the hero of the evening.

"Which means," Dumbledore's voice boomed over the noise, "we need a little change of decoration."

A moment later the green banners turned scarlet, the silver turned gold and the serpent became a huge lion. And under the lion's watchful eyes they feasted and laughed and had the time of their lives. There was simply nothing that could compare to Hogwarts.

The last school day was upon them. They received their exam results without much ceremony. Hermione was very pleased to know that she got the best marks of the year, by a fair margin even. The boys had received very good marks too, to their surprise. She wasn't surprised; they had worked very hard in the last weeks preceding the exams and it had paid off.

Everyone else had passed, too, even Malfoy's stupid thugs, which came as a surprise.

They made the trip to the station in the boats, not the carriages like at Christmas. Everyone had been handed the same notes not to use magic though. The scarlet train was already waiting to carry them southward, home. The journey seemed very short, and before too long they were pulling into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station. They had to wait to get through the barrier, for a guard was letting them through only by twos and threes, lest they got too much attention from the Muggles on the other side.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron while they were standing there, "both of you – I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I'll need something to look forward to."

People called greetings to Harry as they left the platform.

"Still famous," said Ron grinning.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you."

They had reached the barrier and walked through.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!" a young red-headed girl screamed, pointing excitedly at Harry. It had to be Ginny, Ron's sister.

"Harry Potter! Look, mum! I can see -"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs Weasley was a short, round witch with a very friendly face and hair as red as her children's. She smiled at the three of them.

"Busy year?"

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the jumper, Mrs Weasley." Mrs Weasley had sent Harry Christmas presents.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?" came a grumpy voice. It belonged to a fat man with practically no neck, looking furiously at Harry. _So this is Vernon Dursley_, Hermione thought. Behind him stood his wife, Petunia and their son, Dudley. What Mr Dursley lacked in neck, his wife made up for him. She was generally gangly, her lips seemingly permanently pursed in distaste. As for Harry's cousin, he was simply the fattest kid Hermione had ever seen. Both looked terrified of the lot of them.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," Mr Dursley said gruffly. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." Without any more words, he turned around and walked away. Hermione was stunned. Harry had told them at length about his terrible relatives, but she hadn't quite believed him – until now.

"See you over the summer, then," Harry said.

"Hope you have – er – a good holiday," she answered, still looking after Harry's uncle. To her amazement, Harry broke into a grin.

"Oh, I will," he said. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

He hurried after them, throwing them a last grin before he disappeared in the crowd.

Hermione turned to Ron.

"See you, then," she told him, smiling.

"Wait a moment, you don't even know my family yet," said Ron. "Mum, Ginny, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my mother and this is Ginny."

"Hermione, is it?" Mrs Weasley asked. "Very beautiful name. Ron told us you're quite the brightest witch at school."

"Did he?" asked Hermione, flushing. "He certainly never told _me_ so."

Mrs Weasley laughed.

"I would be surprised if he had. Well, have a good summer, dear."

"You too, Mrs Weasley, Ginny. Bye then, Ron."

"See you," Ron said.

She pushed her trolley into the crowd, knowing that her parents would wait outside the station. A last look back showed her that Fred, George and Percy had joined the Weasley family and were embraced by their mother. She turned away from the picture of red-haired happiness. She found her parents waiting for her and rushed to greet them. But as she sat in the car, on her way home, she was already missing Ron and Harry.

But she needn't worry. In only a few months, she'd be back at Hogwarts. Back at home.

The End


End file.
